Bone and Blood
by TAKA-TAKA-TAKA
Summary: In the wake of the Empire's fall, old powers stir in the depths of the World. (As always, chapters with Naughty Bits have been tagged NSFW).
1. Prologue

The Broken God had lain beneath the earth for long, long ages, shattered and sundered, every sliver of bone shivering in ancient agony.

The Mother Goddess had torn it to pieces, in her vast and terrible wrath, had buried it deep, in a place where she had thought no one could ever find it. But its name, unlike that of her faithless husband, was not forgotten. And over the aeons, those who had been abandoned by their families, their lands, their gods, began to pray to it, with nowhere else to turn. It gathered the prayers of the lost, the spurned, and the desperate, and with each small, broken prayer, its power grew.

And then one day, strange creatures came to it, digging deep below the earth, and woke it from its ageless slumber.

They were a race without a god, without a homeland, a desperate, dwindling people who shunned the sun and loathed the Mother Goddess and her frivolous children. They, the Broken God decided, would serve it, and it would save them. They brought it offerings, and worshipers, and sacrifices. It lay beneath sands that burned and ached beneath the sun, gathering strength.

It was almost time. Soon, it would free its lost love from the Abyss where the Mother Goddess had locked him. The mortal realm would remember his name, and tremble. They would cast the Mother down, and make the world anew. This time, there would be room for the lost and the broken, and nothing would ever be forgotten. This time, everything would be _perfect._

It stirred beneath the sands, restless, half-dreaming. It tasted wild magic on the air. The world was at war. Soon, very soon, it would rise.


	2. Chapter 1 (NSFW)

"Wake up, former Mistress Rose."

Rose woke with a start. She'd fallen asleep at an unfamiliar desk. She'd been up late into the night going over charts and papers, plotting the rise of her son's new Empire. She blinked, disoriented. The room was completely dark, but for a pair of yellow eyes and the faint glow of a crystal shard.

"Gnarl," she breathed.

Fumblingly, she lit a candle, her hands shaking. The tiny flame cast weird shadows over the wizened minion's craggy face.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

She'd always thought of the little creature as mostly harmless- a scheming, devious old backstabber, to be sure, but she'd never thought he could ever really hurt her. Now, alone in a strange room in a conquered palace, she wasn't so sure.

The old minion bared his teeth in something that was almost, but not quite, a smile.

"I've come here to ask you the same thing, former Mistress Rose," he rasped. "What is it you want? Why are you here?"

"This was _my_ Empire," Rose snapped, shuffling the papers on her desk to hide her fear. "I helped found it, and I'm not going to let it fall." She gave him a stern look, trying to stop her hands from trembling. "And I will _not_ let you use my son as a pawn."

"Oh, Rose." Gnarl chuckled, shuffling closer, and Rose found herself pulling back in her chair despite herself. "We are _all_ pawns, in the end."

"He's my son, you _monster_."

"Monster?" Gnarl cocked his head and grinned at her. " _I'm_ the monster? You're the one who _stole_ him from us, Rose. You're the one who _abandoned_ him. He hasn't forgotten that, you know. And I don't think he'll ever forgive it."

Rose stared down at him, her heart aching.

"Yes," she said coldly. "I expect you'll make sure of that, won't you?"

"Me?" The old minion spread his claws and gave her an innocent smile. "I'm nothing but an adviser. The boy doesn't have to listen to me."

"I won't let him do your dirty work, Gnarl! Whatever it is you're plotting, you-" Rose hesitated, looking down at him. "What did you call him?"

"Er...the Overlord?"

She stared at him, considering.

"You said 'the boy'," she said at last, thoughtful.

Gnarl shrugged a misshapen shoulder, irritable.

"Oh, so what if I did?" he snapped. "The boy, the Overlad, the Overlord, what does it matter?"

The creature _cared_ about her son, Rose realized, in his own twisted, evil way. She was sure, of course, that if a stronger Overlord came along, Gnarl would drop Thorn in a beat of his little black heart. Still, though, the withered minion seemed almost...fond of him.

"Whose side are you on, former Mistress Rose?" Gnarl asked her coldly. "The Empire's side? Ours? Or are you entirely on your own side?"

"He's my son," Rose said tiredly. "Everything I did, I did to protect him. And I will keep protecting him. Even, if I must, from you."

"Hmm." The old minion squinted up at her, evaluating her. "You do care about him, after all."

"I'm his mother!" Rose snapped.

Gnarl chuckled.

"Oh, but that doesn't mean much," he said. "I've known some truly terrible mothers in my time. It comes with the territory, after all." He held out a wizened claw. "Very well, former Mistress Rose. A truce."

She took his claw cautiously and shook it. His skinny hand was surprisingly strong.

"Very well," she repeated. "A truce. For now."

-x-

"Hey. Wake up, sleepybones."

The Overlord stirred faintly and buried his head under the furs. Kelda wrinkled her nose at him and nudged him harder.

"Hey, come on! Get up! You've got a big day of subjugating the populace or whatnot ahead of you, right? I wanna go poke a Senator with my spear."

"Ugh."

"Come on, you Overload, get your ass out of bed!"

He rolled over, pinning her to the bed.

"Is that how you talk to your Emperor?" he asked her.

Kelda made a rude noise.

"Last night you said 'witch boy' fit you better."

"Did I? I don't know, maybe I changed my mind."

"I'm not ever going to call you 'emperor'. Not 'your majesty', neither. Though maybe 'witch boy' doesn't quite suit you now, either."

"Oh? What would _you_ call me, then, peasant girl?"

"Arsehole," She grinned up at him, her eyes dancing. "Bastard. Seal-shagging, walrus-fu-mff!"

"Rude little bitch." He grinned back at her, covering her mouth. "Though I guess I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

She nipped him.

"Ow, hey! _Bad_ Mistress."

"Thought that was why I _was_ your Mistress," she smirked, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Come here."

Her mouth was warm, and he could taste the hunger on her tongue, her slim, strong fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him down to her. His hands moved up her scarred sides, slipped over her wide hips, the smooth, taut curve of her stomach, up to cup her breasts. She moaned against him, and he felt her smile as she pushed herself against him, offering herself. He caressed her, gentle, felt her purr, caught her nipples and tweaked, hard. She yelped and bared her teeth at him.

"Ow! Fuck, why so godsdamned rough? Bloody barbarian!"

"Savage."

"Lout."

"Peasant."

She shoved him out of the bed with a laugh. He growled, grabbed her by the waist as he went down, dragged her after him. She squeaked, indignant, and smacked his chest.

"Hey!"

" _Rude._ "

He caught her wrists in one broad hand, pinned her arms above her head. She gasped, her nipples tightening, gave him a cheeky grin.

"What's wrong, witch boy? Afraid I'll scratch those pretty eyes out?"

"'Pretty'!?"

"Come on, I'll be good." She rubbed herself against him, inviting. "You can trust me."

"Sealshit." He caught the loop on her choker, pulled her in for another rough kiss. "You know that's not why I want you."

She caught his lip between her teeth, bit him hard enough to draw blood. He snarled and bit her neck, savage, forced her back against the stone and thrust into her. She cried out, her legs tightening around his hips. He felt her cunt growing even wetter as she adjusted to him, felt her moan as she pulled him deeper into her, her thighs tensing.

"About time, Dark One," she smirked up at him, licked black blood from her lips. "You left me all by my lonesome last night, you'd damn better well make it up to- oh!"

He kissed her fiercely, cutting her off, yanked her wrists savagely back, felt her struggle in his hold, panting.

"Shut up."

She grinned back, her eyes dancing.

"Make me."

He thrust into her, fast and vicious, felt her gasp and twist beneath him, pushing her hips to meet him, felt her legs tremble. She shuddered, crying out, her head thrown back-

"Ah!" she froze, startled.

"What?"

Yellow eyes were staring at her from a gap in the curtain. He followed her gaze, and she heard him growl, a low, dangerous sound. The minion yelped and scurried away. She glared after it, fuming.

"Those little _bastards!_ We need a proper door!"

"Want to go somewhere more private, then?"

To her surprise, he scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder, his hand sliding up to cup her ass.

"Hey!" She pounded her fists against his back, felt him laugh. "Arsehole! You _horrible_ witch boy, put me down!"

"Yes, Mistress."

He dropped her down unceremoniously against the balcony outside.

"Ow, hey!"

"Hush, you."

He pushed her down against the balcony and thrust into her again. She gasped, her fingers tightening on the ledge, found herself staring down into the fiery void below. He lifted her hips to his level, her feet leaving the floor, and she squeaked, startled, and wrapped her legs around him, clinging to the ledge, her head swimming, gazing at the inferno below her. She felt her nipples skim the rough, warm stone as he filled her, his skin hot as hearts' blood. She came in a rush, earth above her, fire below.

"Oh, gods!"

She sagged against the balcony, panting. He reached down, pulled her up against him and held her, broad hands cupping her breasts, her feet braced hard against the balcony as he fucked her. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding tight to him, though she knew he'd never let her fall. She felt him nip her neck and shuddered, forcing herself down against his cock, her arms tightening as she felt him come.

"Ah! Oooh, _yes._ "

He set her down, suddenly gentle, kissed the back of her neck. She turned and nestled against his chest with a little sigh, leaning against him.

"Was that better?" he asked her.

"Much."

"I never knew you were so...modest."

She frowned, annoyed.

"Oh, hardly. But it's just...ugh. Those little things aren't human, after all, and they keep watching me everywhere I go, just kind of...giggling. You wouldn't understand."

"What makes you think they're all looking at _you_?" he asked her, amused.

"What?" She wrinkled her nose, confused. "What do you mean? Are you saying some of them...er...prefer men?"

"I'm saying that they're not all male."

" _What?"_

"Of _course_ there are female minions- they're twice as bad as the males! Where did you think they came from, anyways? Out of thin air?"

"Well, the hives-" She wrinkled her nose again. "How exactly do they..."

"I've never asked. To be honest, I don't really want to know. Why? Do you?"

"No, not really." She leaned back against him with a sigh. "I supposed we'd better get up to the surface, hadn't we?"

"Ugh. I suppose."

"Oh, don't look so gloomy. I'm sure you'll get to do plenty of smiting."

"I do like smiting."

"Come on, Witch Boy." She took his hand. "Let's go show those bunch of whiny Imperials the true face of the North."

-x-

The Overlord sprawled on his makeshift throne, helmeted and armored, wearing rough furs and teeth. His Mistresses lounged with him, watching the proceeding in the conquered throne room with lazy interest. His axe rested just within reach, scarred and pitted, and armored minions flanked the throne.

Rose smiled, watching him from her post behind the throne. Her son looked like a barbarian lord out of some bard's tale, a brutish, feral conqueror, out of place among the white marble and tiled frescoes. The effect, she knew, was wholly intentional.

The merchant guild masters certainly didn't seem to know how to handle him. They'd come storming in with a flurry of rich robes and flashy jewelry to demand he open the ports. He'd yawned extravagantly and made a great show of polishing his axe. They'd retreated into a huddled, muttered conversation, as minions circled them like curious sharks.

"Can we treat with this barbarian, do you think?" she heard one ask worriedly. "Does he even speak Common? I don't think he understands us, do you?"

"We simply must have the ports opened again, this silly war has gone on far too long! And he _must_ return our confiscated cargo! We have our profits to think of!"

"Do barbarians understand economics, though, do you think?"

"Hold on."

A fat, squat little man waved a jewel-encrusted hand. Rose frowned at him, trying to remember what she knew about him. He was the head of the Slavers' Guild, she thought, a deeply unpleasant fellow with a tendency to talk over everyone else.

"I will speak to this barbarian," The slaver continued pompously. "Many of my slaves have been from Nordberg, after all. I know how their little minds work up there. We'll just offer him seals, and gold, and women, and maybe then he'll go away."

Rose hid a smile, and Gnarl glanced up at her, amused.

"This is certainly going to end well," he murmured.

The merchant waddled forward and cleared his throat.

"Excuse...me...my...lord," he said very slowly and loudly. "We...need...the...ports... opened. Do...you...understand?"

The Overlord straightened in his throne, tilted his head. The merchant sighed, glanced back at the other guild masters.

"Barbarians, you know," he said. "I'll try again." He raised his voice even louder. "Excuse...me...sire! Do...you...speak...Common?"

"Yes. Probably better than you do, actually," the Overlord said, sounding amused. "Do you always speak that slowly? Because we'll be here all day if you do."

The merchant blanched. The Overlord had a rather thick Northern accent, but it was obvious he'd understood everything perfectly...and had probably overheard the guild masters' whispered conference. He wiped his brow, beginning to sweat.

"Er, my apologies, Lord. I wasn't sure whether or not you spoke Common, so..."

"So your solution was to shout at me until I understood?"

"Ah..."

"But you're not here to discuss linguistic learning programmes, are you?"

"Ah..." The merchant swallowed hard, recovering. "No, my Lord. We'd like you to open up the ports and return our ships to us, ah, with the cargo on them, intact."

"Hmm."

The barbarian Lord cocked his head again, staring at him with those eerie gold eyes. The merchant tugged at his fine silk cloak, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

"Er, if it's not too much trouble, my Lord." He straightened, tried an unctuous grin. "We are prepared to compensate you, of course. We have many seals. We can give you many pelts. Ooh, and these very valuable gems, of course."

He waved a hand, and a pair of servants scurried forward and opened a chest, held it out for the Overlord's perusal. The Dark Lord swatted it idly from their hands, sending stones ringing across the floor.

"I have plenty of treasure," he rumbled. "And seals? Really. Where do you think I would _keep_ them, even if I wanted them?"

The wizened creature that crouched beside his throne reached out and picked up a stone, examining it curiously. He laughed, a deeply unpleasant sound, and the merchant felt the blood draining from his round cheeks.

"Glass, Master," the creature said. "They tried to buy you off with bits of colored glass!"

The Overlord growled, turning his bright gaze onto the merchants. The fat little man in front of him took a staggering step back, waving his hands frantically.

"Oh dear, we must have been cheated!" he exclaimed. "Please, forgive us, my Lord, we had no idea. We can give you gold, if you like." He hesitated, beady eyes lingering on the Mistresses. "Or girls! All the girls you could possibly want, my Lord. Human, and elvish! The sweetest little slaves, fresh from the North, hot from the Sanctuaries-"

One of the women moved at that, a red-haired human woman, slid off the arm of the throne with a feral snarl. The Overlord glanced at her, back at the merchant.

"My First Mistress was a slave, thanks to your Empire," he said coolly.

 _First Mistress?_ The merchant thought, and swallowed hard. _Oh, dear._

The woman made a low, angry noise, her hand on the hilt of a very long knife. The merchant took a step back.

"Do you really think I can be bought with gold or flesh?" the Overlord asked, his voice hard. He turned to the red-haired woman. "What do you think? Should we kill him?"

"Yep," she snapped.

"Ah, but you say that about _everyone,_ my love."

 _My love?!_ The merchant thought, and began to shake in his gilded boots. _Oh, oh dear._

"Yes, but I mean it especially this time." Kelda jabbed her thumb downwards, a gesture she'd picked up from the Imperials. "Kill the bastard. Or, better yet, let me kill him."

The merchant swallowed again, trying to regain his footing.

"Sire...really...are you going to let your slave speak to me that way? Really, your women should know their place!"

To his surprise, the Overlord laughed. The merchant smiled uncertainly. Laughter was a good sign, he thought...wasn't it?

"My slave?" The Overlord asked, fighting to keep the humor from his voice. "Kelda, what do you think of that?"

The girl just made a disgusted noise and rolled her eyes, leaning on his shoulder.

"She's not my slave. They're not 'my' women. They're Mistresses." He glanced at Fay. "What do you think we should do with him?"

"He's very rude, isn't he?" She tilted her head, birdlike, and studied him. "Target practice, maybe."

"Juno?"

"Hmm...well, that cloak is _so_ last-season, and the rest of him is pretty much a crime against fashion, so...sure. Kill him."

"Rose, what do you advise?"

He didn't call her 'mother', still, and that stung a bit. Rose lifted her chin, trying to ignore the slight. Her chilly green gaze swept the merchant from head to foot.

"This man is the head of the Slavers' Guild," she said, her voice harsh. "We already have a slave rebellion on our hands, and we can't afford dissent right now. Disbanding the Guild will mollify the rebel slaves and make them more pliable. Do as you like with him."

"I'm sure I can think of something," The Overlord growled.

The red-haired peasant girl gave the slaver a predatory smile.

"Wait, wait!" The merchant protested. "Please, don't kill me!" He mopped at his brow, frantic. "You...you can have my fleet, my lord! And all the slaves in the market! My house, my family, anything you like, just please, don't kill me!"

"Charming," The Overlord said dryly. "But very well. I won't kill you."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, my Lord!"

"Take him away to the Arena."

"What? But my Lord, you said you'd spare me!"

The Overlord sighed.

"I said that _I_ wouldn't kill you, not less than a minute ago. Didn't you hear me? You really ought to have a better understanding of basic Common." He gestured, and the minions scurried forward and seized his arms with needle-sharp claws. "Get him out of my sight."

He turned his attention to the remaining merchants.

"I will open the ports," he said calmly. "The merchant guilds will be responsible for making the docks serviceable, and for their continued maintenance."

"And our cargo, Lord?" A thin, ancient-looking man asked his querulously.

"Consider it my spoils of war. A tax, if you like, on top of what you've already been paying the Empire." He glanced at Rose. "The guilds _have_ been paying their taxes, yes?"

"I can launch an investigation into their accounts," Rose said.

"Ah...that won't be necessary." The man swallowed, throat bobbing. "Thank you, my Lord. We will do as you command."

"You are dismissed."

The merchants practically tripped over each other in their hurry to leave.

When they had gone, he slumped with a sigh, pulled the helmet off and handed it to a minion. Rose nodded at him, pleased.

"Well done," she said approvingly. "Though that last bit was a trifle petty."

She'd spent the last few days briefing him on the various guilds and factions in the city. He'd done better than she'd hoped, she thought, proud, though he hadn't seemed to pay her much attention at the time. He seemed to have a natural knack for it- he took after his father in more ways than one, it seemed.

"I think I've earned the right to be a little petty every now and then." He scrubbed at his face, tired. "If I have to deal with another oily Imperial or blubbery merchant I swear to the gods I'm going to launch them all out of a catapult."

"And I'm bloody hungry," Kelda growled, sitting back down on the arm of the throne. She glared after the merchants. "You should have let me kill him."

"Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of marble?" Rose asked her, dismayed.

Kelda just shrugged, sulky. Juno examined her nails, obviously bored, and Fay was staring off into the middle distance. The Overlord slumped even lower in his throne, glowering.

"I think we could all use a break," Rose said, eyeing them. "And a meal. We can pick this up again tomorrow."

"More whiny merchants?" her son asked her wearily.

"Worse. Senators."

"Oh, good."

"Come on, witch boy," Kelda snapped, tugging at his arm. "I'm _starving._ Let's go see what Quaver's managed to grub up around here."

"Oooh, yes, let's!" Juno took his other arm, ignoring the look Kelda gave her, smiling up at him. "I'm so excited! It's been so long since I've had something other than peasant fare. I can't wait for you to try _real_ food, Master."

The great palace banquet hall had been converted into a mess. Rose surveyed it with dismay, watching minions squabble with each other, flinging plates that cost a small fortune against the walls. "Mess" was an appropriate name, indeed.

Kelda flung herself into a chair that had been grown by Elvish masters centuries ago, rocking it back on its legs. Rose winced.

"I'm starving," she complained. "How long's this going to take?"

"You can't rush good Empire food," Juno snapped, settling herself next to her with a rustle of silk.

"I don't care, I just want something to eat!"

"You don't know anything about the finer things in life," Juno sniffed.

"Are you quite sure that Quaver knows what he's doing?" Gnarl asked her. "I heard a bunch of screaming from the kitchens earlier. Quite a few minions seemed to be on fire. We're lucky they didn't burn this whole place down."

"I gave him a couple of recipes," Juno said airily. "How hard can it be?"

"Oh, you cook, then?" Kelda asked her archly.

Juno looked down her nose at her.

"No, sweetie. We had...slaves...for that."

Kelda bared her teeth. Juno smirked at her.

"For you!" Quaver stumbled to the great table, smeared with soot and unidentifiable fluids, laid a platter proudly before them.

"Oh!" Juno clapped her hands, delighted. "Quail's eyes in cream sauce, just the way I like it!"

Kelda pushed herself back from the table abruptly, covering her mouth with a hand.

"Excuse me," she said faintly.

The Overlord looked after her, frowning.

"She usually has a stronger stomach than that." He speared an eyeball, gave it a wary look. "Am I supposed to feel like it's staring at me?"

"I'm afraid that's part of the experience," Rose said. "It's best not to make eye contact with it, if you can avoid it."

"I'll go after her," Fay said softly.

Gnarl climbed down painfully from his chair.

"I'll go make sure they don't kill each other, Master."

Fay padded after the girl, found her doubled over in the hallway, retching into a vase.

"Kelda?" she asked. "Are you alright?"

Kelda wiped her mouth, gave her a dubious look. She still wasn't quite sure whether or not to trust the elf, despite all they'd been through together.

"I'll be fine," she said. "I've just caught a touch of something, I think."

"Hmm." Fay drifted closer, laid a hand on her forehead. "No fever. How long has this been going on?"

"On and off the past few weeks," she admitted.

Fay stared at her.

"What?" Kelda asked.

"How long has it been since your last moon cycle?"

"Well, let's see...it's been..." She ticked off the weeks on her fingers, stopped short. "Oh. Oh, no."

"Congratulations, little snow mouse. You're pregnant."

Gnarl puffed his way around the corner, hobbling to them, clutching at his back.

"Oh, my aching claws," he groused. "You ladies are so sprightly, always leaving me in the dust." He looked back and forth between them. "What's wrong?"

"That..." Kelda shook her head. "No, I can't be pregnant. It's not possible."

Gnarl grinned at her, waggled his ears.

"Really? With the way you two've been shaking the Tower?"

She was pacing, running her hands through her tousled hair.

"I can't be! I can't! I took precautions, after all!"

"What sort of precautions?" Fay asked her.

"I have an amulet, it's spelled to keep this sort of thing from happening!"

"A magic amulet?" Gnarl asked her.

"Yes, of course!"

"May I see it?"

"Sure." She fished it out of a pocket in her skirt. She'd been carrying it around since she'd first started her moon's blood, had hardly ever even thought about it over the years. "I've made sure it's charged on a yearly basis, and I- oh."

The amulet was twisted and blackened. She stared down at it.

"How?"

"Just as I suspected." Gnarl peered at it.

Fay took it from her unresisting hands, examining it.

"It looks like it's burned itself out," she observed. "Like it's come into contact with some really powerful magic."

"Oh," Kelda said faintly. "Oh. Oh no."

"The Master sometimes has a tendency to accidentally...overcharge certain magical items," Gnarl said. "Little amulets, small charms, that sort of thing. Once, when he was a boy, he even blew up a temple! That was quite the sight. He has more control these days...but I'm guessing you never told him you had this, did you?"

"No," Kelda said, reeling. "I...I didn't even think about it."

She sat down abruptly on the stone floor, put her head in her hands. Gnarl hobbled over to her, patted her shoulder.

"Now, Mistress Kelda, please, don't look so upset! You're going to be the mother to a little Overling! How exciting!"

She sniffed, her eyes brimming with tears. Gnarl stopped short

"Oh, no."

"I don't know _how_ to be a mother!" she wailed. "I don't know the first thing about raising a child! I'm going to be a terrible parent!"

"Oh, Mistress." Gnarl patted her shoulder again, trying to reassure her. "If a Towerful of minions can manage to raise the Master into a...mostly functional Overlord, I'm sure you'll do just fine."

She just sobbed harder. He gave Fay a despairing look. Fay sat gracefully on the floor, and, after a second of hesitation, put her arms around the other woman. For once Kelda didn't pull away, sniffling into her shoulder.

"It will be alright, little snow mouse," she said calmly. "You have options, after all. There are ways to end a pregnancy."

"What?" Gnarl cried.

Fay gave him a hard look.

"This doesn't concern you." She turned back to Kelda. "Although, either way, it's a tough choice. If nothing else, I think you should talk to the Master."

"What if he's angry?"

"He loves you," Fay told her softly, ignoring the twinge in her heart at the words. "You'll be alright."

Kelda pulled away, wiping her nose.

"I cried all over your dress," she muttered. "Sorry."

Fay rose, offered her a hand. After a moment, Kelda accepted.

"Thank you," she said faintly. "This is...really kind of a shock." She glanced at Gnarl, thoughtful. "You knew, didn't you?"

He had the grace to look a bit embarrassed.

"Yes, Mistress."

"How?"

"It was after you were wounded, Mistress. Mort told me that he sensed two spirits inside you- your own, and a smaller spark, growing deep inside you."

"Oh," she said faintly, thoughtful. She glanced at the two of them. "Don't tell him yet, please? Don't tell anyone. I'll talk to him soon. I just have to figure out how first."


	3. Chapter 2

It had been a very long couple of days.

The Overlord suppressed a yawn, listening to some Senator or other droning on from where he knelt on the floor, something about the cost of repairing the sewers. Necessary, he supposed, but incredibly boring, nonetheless. His hands itched for the rough handle of his axe, and he gave it a longing glance.

His mother was nodding as she listened to the Senator, caught up in the intricacies of waste disposal. At least one of them was paying attention, he thought. Gnarl was whispering in her ear every now and then, no doubt something utterly filthy. Fay had murmured something about visiting the libraries, Juno had swept off to the beaches, and Kelda...

Kelda was sulking in the shadow of the marble plinths, sharpening her spear, making all the Imperials nervous. She had been distracted for the past few days, and for reasons entirely beyond him, seemed to be angry with him. She'd snapped at him whenever he tried to talk to her, had growled at him when he'd slipped into bed beside her. At first, he'd taken that for encouragement, but then she'd sworn at him, blue enough to make a sailor blush, and then she'd kicked him out of his own bedroom.

He'd spent the last few nights sleeping in the too-soft beds of the Imperial palace, bewildered and angry. He hadn't managed to get much rest. Kelda still wasn't talking to him, just shot him unreadable looks every now and then, when she thought he wasn't watching her.

He yawned again, and Rose glanced at him, cut the Senator off.

"I think that's enough for now," she said, dismissing him.

Gnarl gave the Senator a sharp-toothed grin.

"Yes, we can always shoot the shit later, can't we? Bring in the next victim, lads."

The Senator shuddered and hurried away, flanked by snickering minions. The room fell silent, but for the rasp of Kelda's whetstone on her spearhead.

"Can you _stop_ that?" Rose snapped at last.

The peasant girl gave her a dirty look.

"Nope," she said.

"Whyever not?"

"Don't feel like it."

Rose folded her arms, irritated. The girl was so _common_ , she thought. True, she was pretty, in a hardy, Northern sort of way, but she was so _rough._ Surely, her son could do much better than a peasant. And she didn't see why the boy needed three Mistresses, in any case, when one had done well enough for his father-

The earth shook, and alarm bells began to sound. Kelda dropped to a crouch, her eyes narrowed, as the Overlord stood, snatching up his axe.

"My Lord!" A rebel slave scurried into the room, eyes wide, and saluted him. "Something's happened! There's...there's something out in the courtyard. It just appeared, all of a sudden, Sire!"

This, he thought, was certainly better than listening to Senators all day. He jumped down from the dais, suddenly cheerful.

"I'll go look into it," he declared.

"I'll come with you," Kelda said.

"Mistress!" Gnarl snapped. "No, you can't, think of your-"

She whirled, glowering down at him.

"Gnarl," she growled. "Not another bloody word."

The old minion swallowed.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Thorn, wait!" Rose cried. "Be careful, we don't know what this is! Let your minions scout it out, and-"

He was already gone, the peasant girl with him. Rose sighed, putting her hand on her hip.

"Gods below," she snapped. "Has he always been this unmanageable?"

Gnarl shrugged, struggling down from the dais.

"One doesn't manage Overlords, former Mistress Rose. One merely serves them."

"Really," she said dryly. "That's rich, coming from you, of all people."

"I merely...advise. The boy is still quite young, you know. He's still learning."

"I just don't want him to get himself killed in the process."

"Then let's go and make sure that doesn't happen."

-x-

A vast structure soared in the palace courtyard, gracefully wrought. It was more like something grown than something made, carved out of bone or ivory. He hadn't been able to make much sense of the minions' babble, but it sounded like it had, somehow, fallen to the stones from the sky.

Kelda was circling it warily, prodded it gingerly with her spear.

"What is it, do you think?" she asked him.

"I've never seen anything like it. It's a portal, to be sure, but I don't know where it goes."

"Be careful!" Rose gasped, hurrying after them. "Don't go in there! It could be a trap!"

He frowned at her.

"I think that's pretty obvious, don't you? I've already sent a couple of browns through. They haven't come back."

"I can't tell where this portal leads, Master," Gnarl said slowly. "There's some kind of interference."

"Have you ever seen anything like it before?"

Gnarl craned his head back as far as he was able, staring at the structure, suppressing a shudder. Something about it, he thought, made his leathery skin crawl.

"No, my Lord. Never."

"Huh." The Overlord reached out gingerly and touched the bone structure. "Well, maybe we can-"

He felt the magic snare him before he could react.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," he snapped, and vanished.

"Witch boy!" Kelda shouted, and before Gnarl could stop her, she leaped into the portal and disappeared after him.

The portal began to shake. Gnarl caught Rose's arm as she tried to run forward.

"Oh, no," he growled. "Not you, too."

The portal broke apart into its component pieces in a flash of golden magic, the vast stones rising, spinning about each other like petals, sublimating into the clear blue sky. Rose gaped after it, turned to Gnarl.

"What in all the hells was that?" she demanded.

For once, he was at a loss.

"I...I don't know," he said slowly. "But I'm going to find out."

"We have to find him!" Rose was frantic, and trying desperately not to show it. "After what happened to his father-"

"That's not going to happen again," Gnarl snapped. "We'll get him back. Him and Mistress Kelda, and their...er..." He hesitated. He didn't think Kelda would make good on her threats to dress him up in skins and hunt him, but he hadn't gotten as old as he was by taking unnecessary chances. "We'll get them back."

-x-

The portal was fighting her.

Kelda gritted her teeth, forcing her way against a desert wind that wanted to flay the skin from her bones. She could feel it strain and flex against her, sliding needles into her psyche, tore through with a ferocious effort of will.

She hit sandstone, bit her tongue and tasted blood. She swore aloud, spitting into the sand, levering herself painfully to her feet.

The witch boy was standing a few feet away from her, tense and wary, his axe held ready. She looked past him, saw black-shrouded figures, wicked crossbow bolts trained on the two of them.

He glanced at her, startled.

"Kelda? Get out of here, hurry!"

She wiped her mouth and glared at him.

"Not bloody likely," she snapped. "I'm sticking with you, arsehole, whether you like it or not." She looked behind her as the portal sank back beneath the sand. "Anyhow, it's vanished."

"What?"

He risked a look over his shoulder.

"Oh, hells." He glanced around at the silent warriors. "Do we know them?"

"They're Ruborians."

" _Ruborians_? How do _you_ know that?"

"It's a long story, and we don't really have time for it right now." She bit her lip, worried. "Do you think we can take these guys?"

"After Solarius?" He scoffed. "This is _nothing_."

He raised a hand, power crackling over his fist. Three of the Ruborians reached beneath their robes, bringing out peculiar contraptions, intricate little machines made up of carefully-carved ivory gears. He grinned beneath his helmet as he sent his will lashing out, to dominate and enslave-

 _Something_ twisted, the air warping, and his magic shattered, drawing back into itself like a frightened animal. He gaped down at his hands, startled.

"What?"

Crossbows twanged, hissing through the baking air. He snarled as a brightly-fletched bolt buried itself in his shoulder, heard Kelda shout, already racing over the treacherous rocks. He pounded after, tripped over his own feet, fell hard, barely managing to catch himself before he tumbled headlong into the sharp stones.

"What?" he said again, bewildered.

Kelda looked back at him, her eyes widening, as another bolt sprouted from his thigh. He looked down at it, startled, his head swimming.

"Oh," he said faintly, pitched over onto his side, found himself staring up at the merciless sun.

Glittering eyes stared down at him from above dark veils. From somewhere distant, he could hear Kelda shouting, the clash of spear on spear- and then, a high, sharp cry, followed by an ominous silence. He struggled to turn his head to look at her, to speak to her, but his body would not obey him, poison leaking through his sluggish veins. The corners of his vision were going dark, and he felt his heart slow.

 _What a pathetic way to die,_ he thought. _Still, I suppose it's better than being eaten by a giant weasel._

"Well, well," A tall, scarred woman crouched, peering down at him. "So _this_ is the Overlord. I can't say I'm all that impressed."

She gestured to her soldiers, said something in a rapid language he couldn't follow, then turned to him, her eyes cold.

"You're going to be the guest of my mother, Queen Jewel. If you're lucky, you'll be her guest for a very long time. If you're not...well..." She smiled. "The desert is always hungry."

-x-

Kelda woke slowly, the taste of blood in her mouth. She coughed, sitting up, stopped short with a clank of chains.

"Oh, good, you're awake," she heard the witch boy say, his voice a little slurred.

She rubbed grit from her eyes, her vision swimming back into focus. She was in a dry, dark cell, and she was chained at the wrists and ankles. Strange devices whirred and clicked on every wall- larger versions, she realized, of the things that had brought down the witch boy in the desert.

She turned and caught her breath at the sight of him. He grinned at her, split lip leaking black blood, one eye swollen shut. They'd stripped him of his armor, and he was lashed to the wall with chains as thick as his arm- they were taking no chances with him, she thought.

"What happened?" she asked him.

She dabbed gently at the blood with the corner of her skirt. He winced.

"I woke up again when they were trying to chain me." He nodded at his shoulder. "Got another arrow in the neck for my trouble."

Kelda hissed, touched the shaft gingerly. He gritted his teeth.

"Bloody poisoning bastards," she snarled. "They ought to fight fair."

"My head's still swimming. I don't know what they put on those bolts, but I'm pretty sure it could take down a yeti." He shook his head, trying to clear it.

She prodded the arrow again.

"These things are going to have to come out."

"Ah, and I was starting to like the look of them, too."

Kelda tore a strip from her skirt and pulled gingerly at an arrow, sliding it carefully from his shoulder. She was relieved to find that it was a simple, straight dart, without the cruel barbs like the ones she'd carved into her own hunting arrowheads. The end was coated with a sticky, greenish mass. She was careful not to touch it

She pressed the fabric up against his shoulder. He looked down at her hand.

"Oh, no," he said, sounding regretful. "That looked so pretty on you, too."

She frowned, looking closer at him. How much, exactly, had they dosed him with? It was hard to tell with him, but he looked a little more dazed than usual.

The door creaked open, and she whirled, hand going to a knife that wasn't there. Jewel stood in the doorway, flanked by a dozen soldiers, crossbows aimed into the cell. Jade was at her shoulder, looking proud.

 _"I said I'd bring you the Overlord, mother, and I've done it! It wasn't so hard at all!"_

 _"I'm proud of you, dau-"_ Jewel turned, and her smile fell. _"What in the desert?!"_

 _"What's wrong?"_

" _This is not the Overlord!_ "

Jewel whirled on her captives, furious.

"What have you done with him?" She snarled. "Where is he hiding?"

"What are you talking about?" Kelda snapped.

"The _Overlord_!" Jewel growled. "Where is he?"

"I'm here," the witch boy said faintly, sounding bewildered. "Did you want me for something?"

"What in the _desert_?" Jewel peered at him, frowning. "You're never the...wait a minute." She tilted her head, and slowly, she started to smile. "Oh, I see. I'd heard his whore had gotten herself knocked up...what was her name? Flower? Violet?"

"Rose?" the witch boy offered.

"Oh, yes. _Rose_. You're the old Overlord's son, aren't you?"

He'd fallen silent, dizzy.

"She left me to die in the dungeons, you know," Jewel continued. "If it wasn't for the Tower Heart exploding and knocking out the wall, I never would have made it out of there. You could say I have a few scores to settle with her."

"So settle them with her," Kelda growled. "Not with us."

"Oh, no, I'm afraid you're stuck with me." Jewel laughed. "She'll come looking for her son, and we'll be waiting." She gave them a cheerful little wave. "So long, bait."

She turned on her heel and practically skipped away. Jade stayed behind for a moment, giving Kelda a chilly look.

"Hey." Kelda nodded at her. "We could use a needle and thread in here. I've got to stitch him up, I don't want him bleeding all over me. And we could use some food, too."

"Why should I give you anything, rat?" Jade snapped. "You and your fairy friend left me to die."

"But we didn't kill you." Kelda scowled at her. "Though I'm starting to kind of regret that, actually."

Jade frowned in response, but after a moment's thought she pulled a small pouch from her belt and tossed it to Kelda.

"Fine," she snapped. "That's for not killing me. Don't expect much else."

"I could always kidnap you and not kill you again," Kelda offered. "If you come in here, that is."

Jade shook her head, her lips quirking ever so slightly, slammed the door. Kelda shrugged.

"It was worth a try."

The pack had needle and thread, and some kind of acerbic-smelling salve. She tasted it gingerly, the tip of her tongue going numb. She stitched the nasty-looking wounds closed quickly, smearing the salve over the stitches. He watched her work, his strange eyes softening.

"You're quite good at that," he said. "I never took you for a seamstress."

"Eh, when you hunt alone, you have to be a jill of all trades. I've fixed torn tents, ripped parkas, nasty bites from nastier things, you name it." She gave him a stern look. "Don't you go making a habit of this, though."

"I don't plan on it." He looked down at her as she bent over his thigh, her brow furrowed. "Um...Kelda."

She grunted, concentrating on pulling the arrow from his leg.

"Kelda?"

"What?" She snapped.

"I..." He sighed. "You're still angry at me."

"What?" She said again. She looked up at him, pushing coppery hair out of her eyes. "I'm not mad at you."

"Yes, you are," he growled. "And I don't bloody know why!"

"I..." She sighed. "Ah, hells. I'm not angry at you, I'm just...I've been worried, these past few days. I've had a lot to think about."

"Why?" He hesitated- women, he thought, were complicated. Keldas were doubly so. "Did I do something?"

"No, you...well, I mean, alright, yes, technically, but not deliberately. What I mean is...oh, hells."

"What?" He frowned at her, annoyed. "Kelda, I know I don't always understand you, but I'm never going to if you don't tell me why you're so damned upset with me!"

"Fuck." She sat back on her heels, looked up at him. "Alright. Witch boy...how do you feel about...well, about kids?"

"Kids?" He blinked at her, thrown by the sudden shift in conversation. "Well, they're fine, I suppose. Baked, boiled, diced-"

"No, you idiot, I mean _children_!"

"Ohhh!" He grinned at her. "Well, baked, boiled, diced-"

"Be serious!"

"I _am_ serious!"

She was glaring at him, looked almost as if she was about to cry, or hit him.

"Sorry," he said, relenting. "What's all this about?"

Kelda hesitated...this hardly seemed like the right time or place to tell him. But then, she thought ruefully, when would the time ever really be right? She blew out a breath and squared her shoulders, chains clinking, muttered something so softly he could hardly hear her.

"What was that?" he asked her, certain he couldn't have heard right.

"I'm pregnant," she said quietly.

"What?" He stared at her, shocked.

"Pregnant, gods damn you! With child! Whatever in the hells you want to call it!"

"What? How?"

"How in the hells do you _think_ , witch boy?" She glared at him, and then she frowned- with him, she thought, she could never take these things for granted. "I mean...you _do_ know how that part works, right?"

"Yes, of course I do, I just..." His head was spinning. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty damn."

He could only gape at her. Her shoulders slumped.

"You're upset," she said bitterly. "I knew you'd be!"

"No, I- it's just, this is a surprise, is all." He paused, giving it some thought. "Although I suppose it really shouldn't be."

She swiped angrily at her cheeks, and he frowned.

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm not!"

"Yes, you are."

"I..." Her shoulders sagged. "I just...I'm scared. I don't know how to be a proper mother. I never had one. Neither of us knows how to raise a child, really."

"How hard can it be?" he said blithely.

She gave him a dubious look.

"We'll have a Towerful of minions, after all."

She snorted.

"I am _not_ going to let the minions babysit. I'd come back to find my baby with all manner of things on its head, sticking gods know what into its mouth."

"Hey, I grew up okay, didn't I?"

She snorted again, and he grinned at her.

"Come on. This is...this is surprising, but.." He thought for a moment. "It's...it's not a _bad_ surprise. Really."

"Says the one who doesn't have to carry it." She looked away, suddenly serious. "I don't know if I want to have it, to be honest. Well, I want to, but I don't know if I should. What if I'm an awful mom?"

"Huh." He looked down at her, considering. "Well, are you planning to abandon our baby out in the snow somewhere?"

She smiled, realizing he'd said 'our' baby, not 'yours'.

"No."

"Are you planning to become a neglectful, maudlin drunk who lets our baby wander off and play with wolves and witch boys?"

"The first part, no. The second part, well...it seems to have worked out pretty well for me, mostly." She smiled up at him, considering. "I think a Dark Tower would be a great place to raise a baby, actually. Lots of minions to chase, plenty to explore..." She paused. "We'll need lots of things, though. Toys, a crib, clothes..."

"But first, maybe, a way to escape from the clutches of an insane Queen with a decades-old grudge against my father?"

"Yes, that too." Kelda looked around, thinking. "Well, then. Let's put our heads together and figure out a way out of here."


	4. Chapter 3

Fay swept into the Imperial library, ignoring the startled glances and the murmurs that rose in her wake.

Her own library had been impressive, and Oberon's library-sadly now lost in the poisoned depths of Evernight- had hardly been able to contain the myriad books and scrolls the elves had filled it with. The library at Heaven's Peak had been grand, too, and she'd even once visited the great Ruborian university archives.

This, though, could have held them all within its walls.

It was an enormous, ancient series of buildings, butting up against each other like drowsing behemoths. Vast marble columns flanked the bookshelves, and a tiled fresco that was far, far overhead held the constellations, picked out in brilliant diamond. Her footsteps echoed on the polished floor as she entered, and she almost felt as though she was entering some sort of hallowed temple or shrine.

The library was surprisingly busy, considering the fact that the city had been conquered only days before. Librarians in austere grey robes padded quietly among the aisles, or sat cataloging at long tables, lit by magic-kindled globes. Students sat hunched over books, their quills scribbling feverishly. The war had hardly touched this place, Fay thought, and found she was glad of it.

Part of that was possibly due to the librarians. They were uncommonly ferocious in their defense of their books. The Overlord had sent his minions throughout the city after he'd slain Solarius, and the only place they'd encountered any real resistance had been the library. The librarians, to a man, had barricaded themselves behind overturned shelves and had taken out a minion or two with a few well-aimed quills before the Master had managed to convince them that he wasn't planning on burning the place down.

They were watching her warily now, from behind scrolls and shelves, murmuring to each other in quiet, dusty voices, unsure of what to do about her. At last a tall, thin woman detached herself from a huddle of grey-robed acolytes and walked briskly over to her, peered at her through a set of thick spectacles.

"Can I help you...er.."

"'Mistress' will do, and I hope so. I'm looking for information on Dwarf gods, if you have any."

"Hmm." The woman tapped her chin, contemplative. "Dwarves, as far as I know, don't really have gods, per se. If they worship anything, it's gold, and if there's anything they revere, it's industry."

"I _do_ know a thing or two about dwarves," Fay told her dryly. "I've read a great deal of their histories, and you're right, they never mentioned any gods of their own. But I'm curious, still. Anything you have about their societies might help me."

"Of course. If you will follow me, Mistress?" The librarian swept away, purposeful. "I'm afraid that our collection on the Dwarves is rather paltry...no doubt you know more about them, after all." She gave Fay a considering look. "We have almost no information about the elves, either. If you have any books you'd like to donate, we'd be very grateful."

"The elves are a dying race," Fay said coolly. "Any information I could give you would be nothing more than a waste of shelf space."

The librarian glanced at her quizzically.

"As you wish, my lady," she said, and had the sense not to pry.

"Have you ever heard anything about the Broken God?" Fay asked her.

"The broken god?" The librarian paused in the middle of reaching for a book, contemplating. "No...I don't believe I have. Why do you ask?"

"I think it might be a Dwarven god. Or was a god. I'm not sure."

"Hmm." The librarian propped her spectacles on her forehead, dusting her robes. "I can tell you right now that these books won't help you. I've never seen anything by that name in them. But there is someone you can talk to- Davanos, our resident expert on gods and divinities. Follow me, please, and I'll take you to him." She hesitated. "He's...a little peculiar, but if anyone will know your broken god, it's him."

The librarian led her to a stack of papers that was taller than she was, piled precariously on a little desk that looked like it would collapse at any second. She cleared her throat.

"Davanos?"

"Here!"

An arm shot out of the pile, waving, followed by a young, ink-smudged face with the barest beginnings of a beard. Wide, watery blue eyes blinked at her, startled.

"Oh! Oh! An elf! Wherever did you find it?"

He pulled himself free of the papers, sending them careening over the desk in great drifts. The other librarian groaned, trying to shove them back into place.

"Damn it, Davanos, we've told you to clean up your workspace a thousand times!"

"Don't touch those! I have a system!"

"A system?" she said, incredulous. "This is becoming a health hazard, someone could have been crushed!"

"Yes, yes," he said absently, circling Fay.

She turned to track him, nonplussed. A hand shot out before she could stop it, seized her ear.

"Tell me, is it true that elves can speak with the Mother Goddess?" He asked her, as excited as a boy with a new puppy. "That you can commune with beasts and plants, and call down thunder and lightning?"

She grabbed his wrist, her eyes flashing.

"Why don't we find out?" she asked him, her voice low and dangerous.

"Davanos!" The librarian snapped. "This is Mistress Fay! Consort to the...our new master?"

"Oh!" The man grinned at her, held out his other hand. "Charmed! _The_ Queen Fay?"

"I am no longer a Queen-"

"Yes, yes, a transfer of power, I heard a little something about that from a soldier. Very, very interesting, that, makes me wonder about the nature of magic... and godhood, even, especially after what happened with Solarius." He pulled his wrist loose and turned his back on her, rooting around in the pile of papers. "I'd made some notes on it, if you'd like to take a look at them-"

"Davanos," The librarian said patiently. "She has a question for you."

"Oh, of course!" He was hip-deep in the pile, now, his voice muffled. "How can I help you, my lady?"

"Have you ever heard of the Broken God?"

He stilled for a second, made a contemplative sound.

"Broken God...Broken God...I feel like I should. I've heard that name somewhere before, I know I have, but I've forgotten where I heard it." He pulled himself free, his hair in disarray, gave her a quizzical smile. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm curious."

"I don't have any notes on it here. What pantheon is it from?"

"I think it might be Dwarven."

"Hmm." He stared at her. "The Dwarves haven't had a god, in a very, very long time. Once, very, very long ago, maybe, but..." He shook his head, slapping his temples "Ah, damn it, I can't remember!"

"Well, this has been...interesting," Fay said dryly, turned to go.

"Wait! I don't remember, off the top of my head...I never forget, but I must be getting old." He gave her a weak grin when she arched a brow. "Bad joke, sorry. I'll take you down to the archives in the basement. I know I have a useful book or two stashed away down there."

"I'll leave her in your hands, then," the librarian said, bowed to Fay. "I have other duties I need to attend to. Good luck with your search, my lady."

"Come on, this way!" Davanos cried, extracting a lantern from somewhere under all of his papers. "To the archives!"

She sighed and followed him at a slower pace, down a narrow, spiraling staircase, into the musty depths of the basements. She passed tiled frescoes of the Goddess of Wisdom, the God of Justice, and others she didn't recognize. They'd been white-washed and sanitized for Imperial consumption, clad in diaphanous robes and noble-featured golden masks.

"Oberon Greenhaze was your father, right?" Davanos asked her. "Is it true that he turned into a tree?"

"Yes, and partially."

"Were his ears as long as yours?"

"That's a bit of a rude question, really."

"Sorry. I've just never met an elf before. I have so many questions!"

"Keep them to yourself."

"So, I was wondering...when the...er...what do you call him? The Over-something?"

"Overlord?"

"Yes, that. When he took your power, did it hurt?"

"Yes," She told him, hoping to shut him up. "Exquisitely."

He gave her a sidelong look, fascinated.

"Interesting!" He said again.

The dark air smelled like old books. She could hear a faint susurrus from deep within the depths of the library, the beat of leathery wings or the whisper of ancient pages. She shivered and hurried after the librarian and his flickering lantern. He was still talking, mostly to himself, she thought.

"I wonder what he is, really. Your Overlord."

"Yours, too, now."

He waved the distinction away, distracted.

"I've only seen him from a distance so far, but I'd love the chance to study him. Those little creatures, too. Is he just a bigger one of those little things, do you think?"

A laugh escaped before she could help it, and Fay shook her head at him.

"No. He's not."

"Is he human?" he asked her curiously.

"I...I'm not sure. Not completely, I don't think."

"Fascinating! Would he let me study him, do you think?"

"Not likely."

"Oh, that's a shame."

The style of the frescoes on the wall began to change- a gradual roughening of style, the edges of the Gods and Goddesses less refined. Fay stumbled and looked down, realized that, at some point, the stairs underfoot had changed from smooth marble to old, red stone. She could no longer hear the murmuring flick of pages, could hear nothing but the sound of their footsteps and her own breathing.

She glanced up at the walls and frowned. The Gods that adorned the walls were undeniably primitive, now. Gone were the stylized robes and gilded masks, replaced by mud and blood and crude masks that looked like they'd been hewn out of bone or wood. A chill skittered down her spine. Even Davanos had gone strangely silent, and she found now that she almost missed his earlier babble.

"Davanos?" She tapped his shoulder. "How much further do we have to go?"

Davanos turned, and she took a startled step back. He wore a blank, smooth ivory plank of a mask. His eyes flashed a luminous, animal green.

"Not much further now," he said, in a voice that was not his own. "Stay close to me. The dark is hungry here."

Something skittered behind her, the rasp of claws on stone, and she heard a low hiss. Fay swallowed and followed him, seeing no other option.

"Here," He said, stopping beside a low, rough little door. He sketched a bow, the movement puppeteered and jerky. "She is waiting for you."

"She?"

The door creaked open. A dark, earthy smell wafted out like a sigh, tinged with the sweet reek of decay and old blood.

"I will wait for you here."

Fay ducked through the low little door, her aura brightening. A tunnel stretched ahead of her, roots reaching grasping tendrils through the dripping walls. She looked back, frowning- surely her guide didn't expect her to _crawl_.

The door latched closed and locked behind her.

"Fay," a voice called faintly, from up ahead.

The voice was strangely familiar. There was a strange, unearthly timbre to it...and it knew her name. She shivered and pressed forward.

She shouldered her way through the narrow mouth of the tunnel, brushing dirt disdainfully off her skirts. She looked around, wondering. Vast tree trunks rose on every side, towering out of sight, wrapped with vines and clinging creepers. Warm, golden light filtered through the leaves, and the air was hot and wet.

"Fay."

She whirled. The Mother Goddess was sitting cross-legged on a boulder, naked but for a crude wooden mask.

The sculptors hadn't done her justice. They'd captured her thick thighs, her broad belly...but what they'd failed to capture was just how _strong_ she was.

They stared at each other for a long, liquid moment, and then the Goddess tilted her head, birdlike. Strong, hard muscles moved and roiled beneath a thick layer of fat as she shifted.

"Why do you not kneel, my wayward daughter?"

"I..." Fay stared at her. "I don't-"

The Goddess reached out to her, touched her cheek, and Fay shuddered, pulled away.

"Where _were_ you?" she heard herself gasp, hating the lost, childish whine in her voice. "I prayed to you, again and again, I cried out to you, and you never answered me!"

"Oh, my child." The Goddess shook her head. "The time was not yet right-"

"So many of my people _died_. My Sanctuaries were burned, my shrines broken-"

"Do not think I did not feel their loss!"

The Goddess' fury washed over her like a hurricane, and Fay stumbled, fell unbidden to her knees.

"I have seen my people flicker and fade, in the face of Men and Dwarves. I watched your father die, child, as his despair pulled him down into the longest night. I saw your mother burn, bright as a star-"

"What do you know about my mother?" Fay whispered, her voice raw.

Her mother had vanished when she was nothing but a girl.

The Goddess bowed her head.

"She spoke the truth to you, child. And that cold corpse of a woman who walks with the Sentinels...she knows the truth, too. There must be balance, my wayward daughter. Light, and dark, in equal measure, lest the world tear itself in two." The Goddess' brilliant eyes appraised her from behind her mask. "I have a task for you."

Once, her heart would have leaped, to speak with her Goddess. Now, it was chill and still as a stone.

"I don't care," Fay heard herself hiss.

The Goddess stared at her.

"My daughter-"

"I don't care! Find someone else!" Her face was wet, Fay realized. She glared at her Goddess, hating her. "I am _happy_ , for the first time in my long, fruitless life! I have a _purpose_. I _belong."_

No one lived and died on her word, anymore. Her decisions could no longer bring kingdoms to ruin. She wanted to keep it that way, Fay thought, wanted nothing more than to live out her life in quiet obscurity.

The Goddess laughed, a cruel sound.

"Oh, my foolish, straying little lamb. Do you really think he loves you?"

How could she have known her heart, her hidden fears? Fay shivered- she was a Goddess, she reminded herself. The Mother could see into her secret heart, if she wanted to, and she had no defense, could do nothing but stand tall and defy the Goddess who had abandoned her and her people.

"I don't care," she snapped, and then her pale eyes softened, thinking of her Master, and of Kelda, and her pregnancy. Her hand strayed, unbidden, to her abdomen- it had been so long, she thought, since an elf had borne a child. "Maybe, given time-"

The Goddess' eyes were cold behind the mask, and she held up a thick hand.

"Oh, my wayward daughter," she said. "I don't give a _fuck_ for any half-breed brats you and that monster might bear."

Fay choked as she felt something blacken and die inside her, doubled over, clutching her stomach. The Goddess was taking something from her, she realized, with a sick sense of despair, as she felt her womb wither within her.

"No," she heard herself say. "No, please, don't-"

"Hmm." The Goddess tilted her head again, evaluating her. "If you serve me well, my wayward daughter, perhaps I'll allow you to bear children once again. But until then-"

"That was never yours to take!" Fay shouted.

"I created the elves," The Mother Goddess said coldly. "Your very souls belong to me, my silly, pretty child."

Fay stared up at her, not bothering to disguise her hate.

"Very well," she said after a moment. "You've stolen my right to bear a child, after I've wasted my life trying to serve and protect your own foolish children. What more do you want to do to me?" It was stupid, she knew, to goad a Goddess, but she was furious. "I have a heart still, black though it has become. Perhaps you could rip it from my chest? Or if you like you could take my legs and leave me crippled."

"Ah." For the first time, she heard the Goddess hesitate. "Oh, child. I would sacrifice you, torment you, tear you into a thousand pieces, if it would save the rest of my children. I take no joy in your distress, my little one. My care is for the Elven race- for all the elves."

"Florian was right," Fay snapped. "You _are_ a bitch."

For a moment, she thought the Goddess would strike her down, her broad shoulders tensing...and then the Goddess looked away and sighed.

"Do not mistake me, my daughter," she said softly. "I do not want to harm you, but I need your cooperation. If the stolen potential of your would-be children is the only way I can ensure your assistance...then, so be it. I do not care if you hate me, and I do not care even if you die, so long as my people survive."

She held out a hand, and an image flickered there, suspended over her palm. Fay caught her breath, seeing herself reflected there. A slender, red-haired boy tugged at her skirts, looked up at her with shy gold eyes. She cradled a tiny bundle in her arms, a small fist reaching out to grab her finger.

"I can give you this, and more, if you serve me."

Fay swallowed, her throat tight, trying to keep her eyes from growing wet.

"What do I have to do?" she whispered.

"War is coming, my wayward daughter." The Goddess' brilliant eyes were hard behind her mask. "You must prepare my children. They have grown soft and indolent, scattered to the far corners of the world. You must unite them. And you must strengthen them, or else they will be destroyed."

"Why didn't you come to me before?" Fay asked her. "When the Empire came, they tried to destroy us-"

The Goddess laughed, mirthless.

"Oh, no, my child. They didn't want to destroy you. They wanted to enslave you. The elves would have been diminished, but they would have survived. What is coming next..."

The Goddess shivered, and Fay was suddenly afraid.

"What is coming next could destroy us. Not just the elves, not just Men, not just the Dwarves...it could bring us _all_ down. Even the Gods." The Goddess' gold eyes bored into her soul. "You must warn my people. You must make them ready, make them strong, for what is coming." Her hand reached out and brushed Fay's stomach, and her eyes were briefly sad. "Whatever the cost."

Fay felt very cold.

"What is coming, Mother?" she asked, knowing she wouldn't like the answer.

The Goddess was quiet for a long moment, looking down at her folded hands. At last she stirred and spoke, her voice a whisper.

"The Broken God."


	5. Chapter 4

Kelda stared at the ivory gears on the wall, thinking. They looked awfully delicate, she thought slowly. They were a bit too high for her to reach, but maybe... She pried a bit of broken tile from the floor and tossed it in her palm, eyeing the mage-breakers contemplatively. The witch boy watched her, curious.

"Think you can hit it?"

"Please. This is _me_ we're talking about. I could hit a baby seal at thirty yards when I was five years old." She threw it hard, her aim sure, and the mage-breaker hissed and whined, gears grinding on the tile. "See?"

She glanced over her shoulder, hearing the raised voices of the guards.

"Oh, hells!"

She climbed onto his lap and kissed him. He looked up at her, startled.

"What are you-"

"Shhh!"

 _"What was that?"_ One of the guards demanded, laying down his cards. _"I thought I heard something."_

The other guard pulled herself up and peered through the bars in the window.

 _"Ugh,_ " she said. _"It's nothing."_

 _"Are you sure?"_ The other guard looked through, pushing her aside. _"Ooh, hang on, I want to watch this!"_

 _"Pervert."_ The guard sat, took the chance to glance through his hand of cards, swapping a few of his with her own. _"Sit back down and let me finish kicking your ass at Jackal."_

He sighed and sat down, picking up his hand. He scanned it, and gave her an affronted look. She just grinned.

 _"See what happens when you get distracted?"_

Kelda sighed, relieved, and pulled away. The witch boy gave her a rather woebegone look.

"Do you really have to stop?"

"If we want to get out of here, yes!" She gave him a wicked look. "Though I do have to admit I rather like having you all chained up like this."

"I don't _like_ this," the Overlord snarled.

She flinched, startled. He'd never spoken to her like that before. There was an edge of desperation to his voice she'd never heard before. Kelda gave him a worried look as he closed his eyes, trying to control himself.

 _It reminds him of the Arena,_ she thought. _He doesn't like being trapped._

He opened his eyes, gave her an apologetic smile.

"It's not really something I want to make a habit of."

"Oh, boo." Kelda hefted another shard of tile, trying to keep her voice light. "You're no fun."

She hit the mage-breaker dead center, and it squealed to a stop. She glanced at him, dusting her hands on her skirt.

"Think that's enough, or should I try to hit the other two?"

He gave her a feral smile.

"Perfect. Just find a way to get the guards closer to me."

"On it." She pounded on the door. "Hey!"

Outside, a guard set down her cards, annoyed.

 _"What is it this time?"_

The other guard frowned, concentrating.

 _"Er...I don't speak much Common, but I think she's saying she's sick?"_

 _"Ugh._ " The other guard rolled her eyes. _"How stupid does she think we are? That's like the oldest trick in the book."_

 _"Yeah, but...well...what is there's actually something wrong with her? Queen Jewel's gonna be really angry if anything happens to them before she has a chance to kill them herself, and I don't want to be sent out to the desert-"_

 _"Okay, okay, you have a point! You open the door. I'll stay back here with the crossbow."_

The door creaked open, and the guard looked in warily.

 _"I don't see her!"_

 _"Look behind the door, stupid!"_

What followed next was a blur of confusion- afterwards, the guard couldn't really say what had happened. Blue lightning crackled from within the cell, struck her colleague. He took an unsteady step or two forward, and she cocked the crossbow, aiming at the bound demon lord.

" _Hands up!"_ she snapped, and flushed, realizing he didn't understand her.

The other guard was stumbling forward, reaching towards the demon.

" _Stop!"_ she snapped.

He started fumbling with the locks on the manacles, and she swore- the demon lord had done _something_ to him, she thought, something witchy. She dropped her crossbow, fumbling hastily with the mage-breaker at her belt.

The red-haired woman stepped out from behind the door and hit her hard with her chains, knocking her to the ground, the mage-breaker spinning out of her hands. She scrabbled for it, desperate, felt the other woman grab her and throw her bodily into the cell.

She looked up, found herself face to face with the demon. He rubbed his wrists and gave her a smile that was full of teeth.

"Hello," he said.

Lightning flickered from his fingers, and she braced herself with a squeak, burying her face against the stone. There was no horrible jolt of impact, no sudden searing of awful electricity, no smell of burning skin. She raised her head, feeling rather peculiar, gazed up at the demon, raptured.

Why had she been so frightened of him before, she thought? He was _wonderful._ She couldn't quite put her finger on why, exactly, and it made her head hurt when she tried to think about it too closely. It obviously wasn't important.

She unlocked the red-haired woman's chains. She wasn't quite sure she was supposed to free her, she thought, and couldn't quite remember why...but her Master wanted her to do it, so it was probably okay.

"That's a handy trick," Kelda told him. "Is that what you did to Nordberg?"

"Nordberg, and Everlight. I could have killed them all, I suppose, but they're so much more useful this way. I don't have Mort's knack for necromancy, after all."

He reached up and ripped the last of the mage-breakers from the wall, crushing it in his hand. He paused, looking down at the broken gears, pulled an ancient, weathered piece of bone from the wreckage. His skin crawled where it touched him.

"Kelda, have you ever seen anything like this?"

"What is that?" She took it from him, curious, and he wiped his hand on his trousers, disgusted.

"I don't know." He glanced at the guards, and the man shook his head and shrugged. "I don't like, it, though...and I think _it_ doesn't like _me."_

She frowned and tucked it carefully into her skirt, and then, after a moment's thought, picked up the guard's mage-breaker and pocketed that, too.

"We'll figure it out later. First, let's go find ourselves some weapons."

"And my minions."

He glanced at the guards, and the man shrugged.

"I do not know where little demons are," he said, in thick-accented Common. "Apologies."

The Overlord cocked his head, the gesture almost canine.

"They're close by. I can sense them, but I'm not sure where."

Watching him gave her an idea. Kelda closed her eyes and sent her mind out hunting, over the sands. Her own wolves were miles away, of course, but maybe...

There, in the nearby desert. A tiny, big-eared fox was trotting across the sand, light enough that its footfalls wouldn't wake the worms below. She focused in on it, curious. She'd never felt a mind quite like this one, she thought, at once so small and yet so ferocious-

Something shifted, and she felt her mind merge and flow into the little creature's psyche, found herself staring through its eyes. She felt its mind struggle for a moment against her, startled, and then it relaxed, accepting her. Perhaps, she thought wryly, it recognized a kindred spirit.

"Right," she said aloud. "I've found some kind of little fox. I'm going to scout around with it."

"You can do that?" the witch boy asked her, surprised.

She shrugged.

"I guess I can! I'm still figuring this thing out, honestly." Her brow furrowed, and she sat, cross-legged. "Now shut up and let me concentrate."

"I'm going to go see if I can find my armor. I feel a bit...naked...without it." The Overlord gave the guards a stern look. "Keep an eye on her."

"Of course, Lord!"

The tiny fox trotted over the sands with more purpose now, heading towards a vast portal. As Kelda got closer, she could make out Ruborians hurrying briskly back and forth, armed and armored. Princess Jade was with them, shouting orders as she directed her men.

There were an awful lot of them, Kelda thought warily. There were at least a score of guards around the portal. One of them glanced down quizzically at the fox as she trotted past, shrugged and resumed staring out at the desert. There were ranks of soldiers, waiting at rest, spearpoints gleaming wickedly.

Queen Jewel was sitting with her arms folded, looking smug, deep in conversation with someone beside her litter. Kelda stopped short as she drew closer to the Queen, and almost lost contact with the fox.

The Queen, she thought, surprised, was speaking to a Dwarf.

She sat on her haunches, fascinated, watching them. The Dwarf really was a beard with legs, she thought, just as Gnarl had described them. He had thick grey hair that shrouded him to his ankles, with only his feet and massive nose to mark that he was anything other than an ambulatory mop of hair. He wore a pair of thick green goggles that hid most of his face above the beard, and carried a crossbow that was almost as big as he was, slung over his broad back.

Jewel had raised her voice, sounding annoyed. Kelda pricked up her enormous ears to listen in.

"No!" the Queen snapped. "I'm telling you, the demon lord is secure. You worry too much, Gimbal."

The dwarf knotted gloved hands in his beard.

"Are you completely sure about that?" He asked her. "If he's anything like his father, you should be more careful."

"Oh, stop worrying! Soon we'll open the portal to the Abyss...and then your Broken God can have all the bones he could ever possibly want. That should make you happy, right?"

"It's not our god," the dwarf snapped.

Jewel sighed, exasperated.

"Look, I don't care how you feel about this. I'm opening the portal to the Empire. We'll capture Rose, and we'll have her tell us how to get to the Abyss."

"If she knows."

"Of course she knows, you idiot! I might hate her, but that woman's got more brains in her little finger than most people've got in their whole head! If anybody knows how to open the Abyss, it's her."

"If she tells you."

"Oh, I'll figure out how to make her talk." Jewel grinned, unpleasant. "You know she threatened to put me in an Iron Maiden? Let's see how much _she_ likes it."

"I'm still not sure..."

"Oh, stuff it, beer-breath. Just have your gyrocopters standing by."

"As you wish, your majesty. Although...there is a sandstorm on the way..."

"I'm sorry, perhaps you misheard me?" Jewel asked him coldly.

"I...no, your majesty. We will be ready."

He bowed and withdrew. Jewel stared at Kelda, her eyes narrowed, turned to her guard.

"Get rid of that fox, will you?" she said. "I don't like the way it keeps staring at me."

Kelda scampered away as fast as her little feet would take her, broke the connection and opened her eyes with a gasp. A minion had been staring at her, fascinated. He squeaked and stumbled back, tripping over one of the guards.

The Overlord glanced at her, buckling his armor.

"Find anything?"

"There's a portal nearby. We can use it to get back home. The only problem is, it's guarded by at least three score soldiers."

"Sounds like fun."

She grinned at him.

"Why did I know you'd say that?"

He had a dozen or so of his minions, wandering around the jail. One of them was wearing what looked like the remains of a rat on its head. Another was wearing what was quite clearly a chamberpot. He sighed, following her gaze.

"Browns, you know," he said resignedly. "I supposed they're as ready as they'll ever be."

"A couple of minions, two guards, and you and me, against sixty-plus soldiers?" She asked him dubiously.

"I know, it hardly seems fair, does it? Oh, that reminds me, I brought you something." He tossed her a bundle. "I hope it fits."

"Ooh, a present, for me?" She pulled a leather jerkin over her head and gazed down at it, delighted. "You shouldn't have!"

"Oh, and a spear."

She smeared the remnants of the poison from the bolts on the spear, careful not to let it touch her skin.

"Let's give the bastards a taste of their own medicine." She smiled up at him. "Are you ready, witch boy?"

He grinned back savagely and pulled on the great black helmet.

" _Master?"_ Gnarl cried. He cleared his throat, audibly recovering. "Er...glad to see you're still kicking, Sire. I'd hate to have to find another Overlord, it's all so time consuming."

"You're not getting rid of me so easily." He smiled, testing the edge of his axe. "We're coming home."

-x-

Jade paced, fingering her sword. Jewel glanced at her, annoyed.

" _Stop worrying. You're as bad as the dwarves."_

 _"I don't like this."_ Jade drummed her fingers on her hip, fretting. _"I don't know what I'm sending my men into, through that portal. I don't like the looks of that storm on the horizon, either."_

 _"We'll be though the portal before it hits."_ Jewel turned, her eyes softening. _"Malachite, are your shock troops ready?"_

Mal grinned. He was a giant of a man, clad in massive bronze armor, stood towering over his mother and sister.

 _"Ready and willing to fight, ma."_ He ground a massive fist into his palm. _"We can't wait to see some real action!"_

 _"You're just like your father,"_ she said fondly.

Jade snorted, couldn't suppress a roll of her eyes. Mal smirked and ruffled her hair.

 _"We'll try to save a few soldiers for you and your boys, Jae!"_

She ducked away and made a face at him.

 _"Yeah, you'll be crying for us to come save you in under an hour."_

He laughed and flipped the visor on his helmet down.

 _"See you on the other side, sis."_ He raised his voice. " _Alright, men! Let's move out!"_

The shock troopers clanked towards the portal. They wore heavy armor, but moved with muscular grace beneath the heavy plate, maces and clubs slung over their broad shoulders. Jewel smiled, her eyes hard.

" _Let's see how Rose likes this, then._ "

Jade felt a shiver prickling over her neck. She turned, frowning, to watch the approaching storm. The dwarven gyrocopters glinted, racing hastily away from the boiling sands to the portal. Two vanished through in the wake of the shock troops. A third landed clumsily, smoking, and Gimbal clambered out, wiping soot from his goggles.

"It's no use, your majesty!" he shouted, over the howl of the wind. "The 'copters can't fly in this weather! We'll follow your troops once its cleared!"

The wind was tearing at their robes now, sand stinging exposed skin. Jade could hardly see three feet in front of her. Jewel covered her face, coughing.

 _"Send in the next wave!"_

Jade nodded, and turned to find her second in command. The wind was howling now, sand lashing against her bare face. She squinted, peering into the storm, saw the crackle of lightning-

That wasn't right. She frowned, stepping deeper into the storm.

Her lieutenant lunged forward out of the sands, sword flashing down. She swore and barely dodged in time, drew her scimitar and circled him warily.

" _Rhaz_?" She asked him, bewildered. " _What's wrong with you_?"

" _For the Master_!" he cried, thrusting.

She parried his thrust and kicked him away.

" _Rhaz, what's wrong with you_?"

" _I will give my life for him!_ "

His posture wasn't quite right, she thought, and there was something glazed about his eyes. She deflected another blow and cracked him on the side of the head with the pommel of her sword. He collapsed with a gasp.

Someone grabbed her arm, and she yelped, whirling, managed to stay her sword inches from her mother's throat. Jewel stared at her, panicked.

 _"Something's wrong!"_ She shouted. _"Everyone's gone crazy!"_ Her eyes widened. " _Behind you!_ "

She lunged past, hit a soldier with a palm strike to the nose. His spear thrust went wide, only managing to tear Jade's robes, and he crumpled to the sand. Jewel stared at her daughter, frightened.

" _What's happening?"_ Jade demanded.

" _I don't-"_

A dark shaped loomed in the churning sands behind her daughter, and Jewel swore, going white.

" _Oh,_ desert!"

Jade spun on her heel, dropping into a crouch, as lightning bloomed, crackled around her head in a brilliant corona. She swore, fell to her knees.

 _"Bastard!"_

Jewel flung herself forward, sweeping her legs forward in a low, scything kick. The Overlord blocked her with the flat of his axe, reached down and caught her ankle, lifted her up as if she was a kitten. Gold eyes watched her narrowly, amused.

"Let her _go!"_ She snarled. "Whatever you're doing to her, stop it!"

She twisted in his grip, the blade of her hand flashing out to strike his wrist. He dropped her with a curse, startled, breaking his hold on Jade.

" _Mother?"_ She asked blearily, staggering to her feet. " _My head hurts."_

Jewel slung her daughter's arm around her shoulder and gave him a dark look, vanished into the storm.

"Should we go after her?" Kelda asked eagerly.

"It's not worth it." He shook his hand, annoyed. "The storm's really picking up. We should get out of here while we still can."

"Race you!"

She sped away in a spray of sand. He shook his head, following her.

"You're insane, you know that?" he shouted over the wind.

"So they keep telling me!"

She stopped short at the portal, the vast, bony spurs shielding her from the storm, staring our at the struggling Ruborian soldiers the witch boy had leashed by his magic.

"What's going to happen to them?" she asked him. "That thing you did to them- does it ever wear off?"

He shrugged, unconcerned.

"I don't think so."

"But you...you took away their will. That's _horrible_."

"I know."

"What's going to happen to them?"

He just shrugged again and walked away into the portal.

He didn't care. She felt a shiver creep down her spine. Sometimes, she thought, as much as she loved him, she couldn't forget that he was a monster.

Kelda shook the thought away and followed him through the portal, the minions hot on her heels.

Immediately, she knew that something was wrong. The air twisted, and she felt a furious Power stirring beneath the sand, hungry magic seeking her, worming its way into her bones like a fever. She could sense an alien intelligence inspecting her as it held her fast, suspended in its grip like an ant in amber...and then she felt the Power turn its ravenous attention to the witch boy.

 _Something_ reached into the nothingness of the portal, a vast, bony limb made up of shattered skeletons, sun-bleached bones of birds and lizards and other things she couldn't readily identify. The sharp spurs moved towards the Overlord, impossibly fast, as he swore and struggled, caught in the same magic that held her fast. The claw snatched him up, nearly breaking him in two, and the great black axe fell from hands that he could no longer seem to control. Kelda felt the Power's focus narrow on him, curious.

 _What are you, little witchling?_ The bones shifted, blurring, clattering into a vast, sad-eyed face, the grief of millions etched across the bones. _There is a Power in you that could remake the world._

Its hold on her slackened, and she tore her way free from its grip, snatched up the axe with a grunt of effort. She raised it with a shout, her arms shaking with the strain, and brought it down on the claw, scattering the bones. The Power howled, mournful, breaking apart in a hot, wild wind, shattered skeletons rolling away into the empty dark.

"Come on!" she shook the Overlord, pulling him to his feet. "Hurry, let's get out of here before that thing comes back!"


	6. Chapter 5

"So, you're saying I was possessed?" Davanos asked her again eagerly. "That's _fascinating!"_

Fay sighed. She was starting to have a feeling that she could tell the boy she'd had his grandmother drawn and quartered, and he'd simply reply the same way.

"Yes."

"By the Mother Goddess?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

"I wish I could remember! And you said she warned you about the Broken God?"

"For the hundredth time, _yes_ , but she didn't actually say anything _useful_."

"'War is coming'?"

"Yes, but I don't know what-"

There was a high, sudden whine from somewhere outside the massive library. Davanos cocked his head, curious.

"That sounds like-"

The walls shook, stones ringing down from the mosaic overhead. Fay gaped, startled. Davanos grabbed her arm and dragged her under a table.

"Get down!"

Alarms began to sound, deep inside the city. The walls shook again. The librarians were moving swiftly, gathering armfuls of books and ferrying them into the basements.

"Davanos?" The tall, bespectacled woman peered under their table, blinked at Fay. "Mistress? What are you still doing here? It's not safe here."

"What's going on?" Davanos asked her eagerly. "That noise, it sounded almost like a dwarven rocket, didn't it? I thought those were entirely theoretical, but it seems-"

"That hardly matters right now, does it? The city is under some sort of attack, and, more importantly, our books are in danger! Get out here and help us!"

"Ah." Davanos gave her an apologetic smile. "I'd love to, but I'm afraid I have to see the Mistress safely back to the palace."

"You?" the librarian asked him coolly. "No offense, my lady, but I think you'd be safer on your own. Trouble has a way of finding him."

"Lavina!" a clerk shouted, frantic. "Come quickly! The Eastern wing is on fire!"

The tall librarian swore, a string of hard, fierce syllables Fay was more than a little surprised to hear coming from such a respectable-looking woman. She hiked up her robe and scowled at the pair of them.

"Do what you want," she snapped. "I've got bigger problems."

"Come on." Davanos helped Fay out from under the table, clumsily courteous. "They'll be fine."

"But, your books-" Fay protested, following him as he ducked out the vast library doors.

He waved a hand, unconcerned.

"Lavina will take care of it. She always does." He stopped so short that she almost ran into him, gaping up at the sky. "Look at that!"

She followed the direction he was pointing. A pair of dwarven gyrocopters were looping across the city skyline, arrows bouncing harmlessly off their bronze flanks.

"Oh, damn," she murmured. "It's the Ruborians."

Davanos glanced at her, startled.

 _"Ruborians_!?"

"We have to get back to the palace."

"I know a way."

He grabbed her hand and dragged her off into the burning streets. She followed him, too startled to protest.

"Quick, down here."

He pulled a grate aside with surprising strength. Fay wrinkled her nose at the stench.

"Through there?" she said, appalled.

Davanos shrugged.

"The sewers are the quickest way to get to the palace. It'll be safer than going above ground. Mostly."

"Mostly?"

The choppy whine of the dwarven gyrocopters was getting closer. Fay cursed.

"Fine. Lead the way."

He whispered something, a complex verse of twining charms in a language she didn't recognize. A witchlight kindled in the gloom, glowing a dull, hellish red. Fay stared at him, surprised.

"You can do magic?"

He put a finger to his lips and grinned at her, vanished into the sewers. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and immediately regretted it. She splashed after him into the murk, closing the grate behind her with a screech of rusting metal.

"The Empire doesn't know, of course," Davanos said. "But when you spend all your time reading up about gods and magic...well, you pick up a thing or two."

Fay called up her own light, pale and flickering. The librarian stared, fascinated.

"Oh, that's incredible. I've seen a bit of Elvish magic, of course, but nothing quite like yours! It's been my experience that most elves seem to have kind of a green sort of magic...summoning the beasts of the air and fields and whatnot. I saw one woman call up giant thistles, and I saw a man summon falcons-"

"Where have _you_ seen Elvish magic, Imperial?"

"Oh." Davanos gave her an awkward smile. "In the Arena, of course. Where else?"

"Of course," she said coldly.

She'd hoped he'd fall silent after that exchange, but, of course, her hopes had been in vain. He prattled on as they splashed through the sewers, as Fay did her best not to look too closely at what went floating past them.

"All sorts of nasty things end up down here," Davanos was saying. "Lots of magical waste from the palace, not that I'm supposed to talk about that, of course. Desperate people, with nowhere else to go. There used to be a whole band of escaped slaves down here, gangs of thieves and cut-throats. I wonder what happened to them?"

He was walking through the sewers with purpose, and seemed to have a clear idea of where he was going. Fay followed him warily.

"How do you know all this?" she asked him slowly.

He smiled back at her and shrugged.

"I'm a librarian," he said innocently. "It's my business to know things. The Library took me in as an apprentice when I was ten years old, after the Empire conquered my homeland. It's been my only home ever since. Librarian Victus- he's my mentor- he practically raised me. Gods, I put him through a lot, one time the other apprentices and I let a whole herd of sheep loose in the main wing, and..."

Fay tuned him out, annoyed, as he went on, talking to her as if he thought she'd care. Humans had such brief lives, she thought, and most of them wasted their time with sound and chatter. Perhaps they were all just trying to drown out the drone of their own pointless existence.

Perhaps she should ignore the task the Mother Goddess had given her. Maybe it was best if the elves faded away into the longest night, away from all the noise and bustle of Men. Maybe it was best if she followed them.

Davanos and his light vanished abruptly, startling her out of her dark thoughts. One second he was walking in front of her, chattering away like a sparrow. The next, he'd vanished beneath the viscous, murky water without so much as a sound or a ripple.

"Davanos?" Fay brightened her light. "Are you there?"

Silence answered her. She shivered and took a step forward.

"Davanos?"

A massive frog burst out of the filthy water. Fay stumbled back, reached for the seed of magic, deep within her soul-

Light crackled through her veins, arcing through her bones. Power leaped from her outstretched hands and struck the creature, ripping it apart in a hot, bright burst of wild magic.

She stared, astonished. Davanos broke the surface with a gasp.

"Mistress!" he cried. "Are you alright?"

"I..." Fay flexed her fingers, the white-hot power still shivering through her skin. "I...yes."

"What happened?"

"I'm...I'm not sure," she said.

The Goddess had taken something from her, she thought...and given her something in return.

Davanos winced, wringing reeking water from his grey robes.

"Well, let's not question it. Let's just get to the palace before anything else decides we'd make a tasty snack."

They made it through the sewers without incident. Davanos knew the way, Fay was certain of it. She frowned, watching him by the flickering light of magic.

"Here, Mistress."

He helped her up clumsily to a grate, onto dry land at last. She wrung her skirts out with a little shudder of distaste.

"Goddess, you humans are so _filthy._ "

Davanos didn't answer her. For once, he was speechless, staring through the grate. She frowned, following his gaze.

Giants surrounded the palace, clad in bronze armor that gleamed and glittered in the waning daylight. They were _big_ , much bigger than the Dark One, even larger than her trolls, held weapons that were taller than she was. They were arguing in rapid-fire Ruborian, tense and jittery, something having to do with strategy.

 _"We should wait for the Dwarves,"_ a massive woman snapped.

An enormous man, like a mountain made flesh, shook his dark-braided head and spat.

 _"We were supposed to have more support,"_ he growled. _"What happened to the gyrocopters that were supposed to follow us through?_ "

" _I'm not waiting around for the stumpies,"_ she snarled back.

She strode forward, drawing a great broadsword from a sheath on her back. Someone moved on the parapets of the palace. As Fay watched, an archer drew back her bow and fired a burning arrow- aimed not at the giants, but at the ground below. The stones burst into flame as the arrow struck them, a blazing ring of fire spreading its arms around the palace. The giant staggered back, cursing.

"Oh, good," Davanos said brightly. "That should buy us some time. Come on!"

He pushed the grate open and dragged her out, racing towards the palace. She heard the archers shout, startled, and braced herself, gathering her magic, ready for their arrows to come raining down. Davanos waved and called up to them, cheerful, and to her surprise the archers lowered their bows as the palace doors swung open.

The hooded woman, Rose, was waiting for them, with her eerie Sentinels. She glanced at the giants as she ushered them in, her forehead creasing in a frown as the doors slammed shut.

"Those flames won't hold them for long," she snapped. "Shore up these doors, and secure the windows. I want everyone who can hold a spear armed, is that clear?"

A soldier saluted her and raced away, almost tripping over himself in his haste to get away from her. She turned her chilly green gaze on the pair of them.

"You're lucky you made it back before we'd barred the door," she said. "Do you have any idea what's going on?"

"Sorry, your ladyship." Davanos bowed. "I wanted to make sure Mistress Fay made it back to the palace intact."

Fay met her eyes, icy.

"Where is the Master?" she asked her. "I would speak with him."

Rose looked taken aback for a moment.

"The mas- you mean, my son? I...I'm not sure."

"What do you mean?"

"Something's happened. He's...er..." The woman raked a hand through her tangled red hair, exasperated, and for an instant, Fay could see her son in her. "He's, um, vanished."

" _Vanished?"_

 _"_ I'm not quite sure what happened. There was a portal, he touched it, he was gone, that little peasant ran after him, she's gone-"

"Kelda, too?" Fay frowned- she'd been growing a bit fond of the pesky little creature, for all her ill-mannered ways, and she was a bit surprised to find herself more than a little worried. "What about Juno?"

Rose made a face.

"Off swanning about the gardens, sunning herself, last I saw."

Fay hid her disappointment with an effort. It was to much to hope that Juno, too, would have disappeared.

"Gnarl's working to find a way to bring him back," Rose assured her. "He'll find a way."

"He had better."

"Oh, believe me, he knows he'd better figure this out. Or else he knows I'll get...creative. I am _very_ crafty."

Fay found herself unaccountably wondering what, exactly, an arts and crafts project with Rose would entail. The other woman smiled cruelly, and Fay suppressed a shiver, realizing that she didn't particularly want to find out.

"Gnarl," Davanos was musing, smiling to himself. "He's one of those little creatures, isn't he? Could I examine him, do you think?"

Rose glanced at him, annoyed.

"You can drop the act, Davanos."

He shrugged and grinned at her, rueful.

"With all due respect, my lady, it's not really an act. I'd just _love_ to take a proper look at him."

"If he doesn't find my son, then, well, you're welcome to it. I'll help you, even."

"Mistress Fay seems to believe that our attackers are Ruborian."

Rose nodded.

"Yes, I thought so. The giants fit, of course. But the Dwarven flying machines-"

"The Dwarves and the Ruborians seem to be working together," Fay said. "I'm not sure why."

Rose stared at her, startled, looked at Davanos. He shrugged, apologetic.

"None of our operatives had heard anything about either the Dwarves, or Ruboria, until today. Sorry, my lady."

"How could we have known? We thought that they'd both been wiped out in the Cataclysm."

"There's something else, my lady." Davanos glanced at Fay. "Something calling itself the 'Broken God'. Even the major gods are getting involved. She says the Mother Goddess spoke to her."

Fay gave him a look, feeling a little betrayed. He shrugged at her.

"Sorry, Mistress. We Librarians all report to Lady Rose."

"Oh." Fay glanced between them, surprised. "The librarians are your spies, then?"

"Some of them." Rose smirked. "Really, do you think your ordinary Empire citizen has ever set _foot_ in those libraries? And you'd be frankly astonished at how many would-be revolutionaries walk in and ask for things like 'The Compleat Idiot's Guide to Overthrowing an Empire'. Davanos and his sort have been quite useful, over the years."

"Thank you, my lady!"

"And now you can be of use again. Are the libraries secure?"

"There was a small fire earlier- collateral damage, I don't think the enemy was targeting us directly. Lavina has it well in hand."

"Good. I want you to return to the libraries as quickly as you can, and gather a small task force. Bring me everything you can find about portals...and...hmm, the Broken God. For my part, I'll draw back and defend the inner palace-"

The earth shook, staggering them. The Sentinels began to howl, clutching their heads as magic arced and warped through the palace. A vast, bony spire forced its way up through the marble floors, shattering the pillars, tearing into the vaulted ceiling, unfurling stony petals.

"Fay!"

Kelda was struggling in the portal's spiny embrace, tugging frantically on a limp, mailed hand.

"Help me!"

The Master was caught in the portal, bone wrapping him like brambles, black blood leaking from beneath dark armor. Rose ran to them, frantic. Fay reached for the power the Goddess had granted her again, hoping it wouldn't fail her.

"Get out of the way," she snapped.

Light arced from her hands, etching through the portal, shattering its hold on the Overlord. Kelda helped Rose drag him aside as he gasped, coughing, fell to his knees.

The bony tendrils flexed, scraping over the marble, reaching for him. Kelda swore and fumbled for the mage breaker. She twisted a dial until it snapped and flung the arcing, sparking thing into the portal. _Something_ screamed, a mournful, horrible, unearthly sound that scraped her mind raw, and the portal vanished. The Sentinels fell, smoking and empty.

Rose hurried to her son. The peasant girl was already there, pulling his helmet away as she crouched over him protectively. Her eyes flashed as Rose and Fay came near, and she bared her teeth, feral.

"Let me _help_ him!" Rose snapped.

The girl shook her head as though to clear it, the wild look leaving her face.

"Please," she begged her.

"Ah, gods below." The Overlord opened his eyes and winced. "What in the hells was _that?"_

 _"_ Witch boy! You're alright!"

"Of course I am." He sat up, pushing Rose aside with a grimace.

"Thorn, wait, that was some terribly powerful magic, just let me-"

"I'm _fine_ ," he snapped.

Rose sighed and sat back, wiping her hands on her skirts. He was quite visibly not 'fine', she thought, but there wasn't much he'd let her do about it.

"Are you sure you don't want her to-" Kelda began.

He grinned at her.

"Hey. I'm durable, remember? _You_ should know that." He turned to Rose. "What's been happening here?"

"Ah...well, it seems that Ruboria, of all places, is attacking us. I'm not really sure why."

"I think we might know," Kelda said slowly.

"Oh? Do enlighten me."

"Well, we met someone named Queen Jewel, and she seems to be awfully upset with you-"

" _Queen_ Jewel?" Rose frowned. "So that's where that thieving little creature ended up. She's done well for herself, hasn't she?"

"I think we've managed to close her portal into my Empire, for now," her son said. "What are we up against?"

 _'My' empire,_ Rose thought, faintly amused. _Well, that was certainly fast._

"From what my agents have been able to observe, it looks like the Ruborians have fielded at least two gyrocopters. We're presently working on targeting them with our ballistas outside the city, but they're proving to be quite maneuverable, and we're having a bit of trouble taking them down."

"Gyrocopters?"

"Flying machines," Kelda supplied.

"Armed with Dwarven rockets, yes."

"Oh, that's just fantastic," the Overlord snapped. "What else?"

"Well..." Rose sighed. "There's a squad of giants surrounding the palace-"

Something slammed against the outer doors, shaking the pillars. Rose frowned.

"I suppose that's them," she said coolly. "You'd think they'd be polite enough to knock. We should retreat back to the Netherworld. None of us expected to have to fight a gaggle of giants today, and I think that's something we can all do without for now, don't you think?"

"I'm not retreating," the Overlord growled.

"Thorn, listen to me, we don't have a choice. I don't like it either, but-"

"This is _my_ city. I didn't go through hell and back to conquer it, just to give it up so easily!"

"We can't stand against their forces! The city is still in ruins, and we don't have the strength to mount a full-scale counter-attack. Our best chance is to fall back and regroup. We'll plan our strategy, and we'll-"

"Please." The Overlord grinned, savage. "I've taken down a giant or two before. It's not hard."

"No," Rose snapped, annoyed. "You've taken down trolls, and you've taken down gargantuans. Both are stupid, and slow. These are _Ruborian_ giants. If they're anything like Khan, they're incredibly strong, as clever as any man, and very dangerous."

"I can handle it."

"Thorn, don't be _stupid!"_ Rose said tersely. "You're going to stay here, with us, and retreat! It's the most sensible thing to do, and I won't let you-"

To her surprise, he actually _snarled_ at her then, gold eyes flashing, knuckles whitening on the handle of his axe. Rose took a step back, suddenly frightened, realizing she'd made a mistake. She was used to being in control, she thought...but then, so was he.

Her son took a deep breath, and very deliberately, he lowered the great black blade, meeting her eyes, chilly.

"I am not retreating," he growled. "I am the _Overlord._ This is _my_ city. _I_ command it."

 _"_ I..." Rose swallowed. "At least let me..."

He shouldered past her without another word, snatched the helmet from Kelda. She gave him a dirty look as he stalked off to the portal, oblivious.

"I'll go after him," she said, annoyed. "I'll talk some sense into him. And if that fails, well, then I'll bloody knock it into 'im."

Fay hesitated.

"Let me talk to him instead," she said at last. "It's dangerous out there, and maybe you should go below-"

Kelda glared at her, annoyed.

"I'm pregnant, fairy, not bloody crippled. I'll be _fine."_

Rose stared at her, startled.

Surely, she thought, she hadn't heard that right. For the gods' sake, Thorn was little more than a _child!_ And the girl, she thought, could hardly be much older...to say nothing of her complete and utter lack of anything resembling social graces! When all this was over, she thought, she was going to have to have a long, long talk with her son.

"But you'd be safer-" the elf began.

"He'll listen to me, Fay, if he knows what's good for him. I'm not about to let him get himself killed, especially not now."

She had a point, Fay thought. She'd never seen the Master quite like this- Rose seemed to set something off in him, something ugly and angry and stupid that she was afraid to confront. If anyone could get through to him now, it was the scruffy little peasant girl.

"Fine," she sighed. "But I'm coming with you."

"As am I," Rose said.

They both gave her rather dubious looks. She cleared her throat, defensive, suddenly wondering what they thought of her.

"He _is_ my son, after all," she pointed out.

The peasant girl shrugged and turned on her heel, stalking off to the portal.

"Well, are we going to sit around and talk about it, or are we actually going to _do_ something?"


	7. Chapter 6

Juno reclined on a cushioned bench in the garden, fanning herself and trying to ignore the smell of the greens.

The awful spiders had taken to following her _everywhere_. She'd even found them in her wardrobe! And the horrible little green minions seemed enamored of the hideous things, went skittering and giggling and stinking after them wherever they scuttled. She was going to have to convince the Master to build her a villa of her own, she thought, annoyed. One with plenty of nasty traps for the loathsome little things.

He'd stormed past her earlier in some kind of fury, hadn't even bothered to give her a second glance...and she'd been arranged so _artfully_ , too. He'd been much too distracted lately with his brand-new toy...she'd have to do something about that soon.

It was nice to be back in the Empire, though. The wine was good, and the food was properly delicate. She'd had enough half-cooked seal and cave bear and whatever else it was barbarians ate to last her a lifetime. And she was finally back in a place where people recognized her, and gave her the sort of attention she deserved.

"Juno."

She preened, turning. She didn't recognize the voice- no doubt it was some serving girl, come to beg makeup tips or romantic advice.

"I'm a bit busy, sweetheart," she crooned. "Come back later."

"Juno!"

She shaded her eyes, looking up. The Master's irritating, bony mother was standing above her, a scowl on her face and her hands on her hips. To make matters worse, the peasant girl and the fairy were with her, both glaring at her as if she'd slept with their husbands.

"Get up," the woman snapped.

Who on earth did the wrinkly old bint think she was?

Juno glared up at the three of them, annoyed.

"You are _blocking_ my light."

"Ruboria is invading," Rose snapped.

"Oh, so _that's_ what that sound was." Juno yawned and waved a hand. "I just thought that was the slaves setting off fireworks or whatnot again. Really, did the Master have to free them _all_? I could use someone to fan me. Minions just aren't the same."

"My idiot son has decided that the best course of action is to charge right in and fight their forces on his own. We're off to stop him doing something truly stupid. You'll come with us."

"What? Why?"

Fay gave her a look.

"You really want to be here when the Ruborians storm the palace?"

"I'll be fine." Juno yawned again. "I'm pretty."

"Oh, so you speak Ruborian?" Rose asked her archly.

"Er...no, why?"

"How will you beg for mercy when they sacrifice you to one of their awful desert gods?"

"I...what?" Juno stared at her, aghast. "They don't do that, do they?"

"Only the most beautiful maidens are sacrificed, of course, but-"

"Maybe I should go back to the Netherworld."

"Or maybe you could stay and help us talk some sense into him," Fay snapped.

Kelda shrugged.

"Oh, let her go. She's completely useless, anyhow. Nothing but a pretty face, after all."

"Hey! I'm _so_ much more than that!"

"Fine." Kelda smirked. "Prove it."

Juno hesitated, trapped. If she went back underground, she'd be safer...but if the Master survived and found her alone there, after the other two had gone after him...well, she'd been around enough politicians to know how the other Mistresses would spin _that._ And so far, he'd proven himself to be very, very good at surviving. Perhaps it was best to hedge her bets. She probably wouldn't be in any real danger, anyways...she was beautiful, after all. People _loved_ her.

"Fine," she sighed. "Do I get a little sword thingy?"

-x-

There was a fury in his blood.

The portal took him beyond the palace, to the marble-columned streets beyond. He called up his minions, pulse roaring in his ears. From somewhere far and dim behind him, he could hear Kelda calling something after him. He ignored her, anger coursing icy through his veins.

This was _his_ city, he thought again. This was _his_ Empire. He'd conquered it through blood and fire, and his arrogant, self-serving mother had _dared_ to give him orders, in _his_ palace, as if she'd done anything to help him beyond show up and murmur cryptic warnings.

"Master?" He could hear Gnarl through the helmet, sounding worried. "Er, sire...maybe you should head back to the Netherworld."

"Shut up, Gnarl."

"Master, listen to me! You're going to get yourself-"

A green tugged at his pantleg, pointing behind him.

"Master?" It said uncertainly. "Big man. Big, scary man."

"Oh," he heard Gnarl say, sounding uncharacteristically dismayed. "Oh, _hells."_

He turned. An enormous, dusky-skinned man leaned on a great broadsword, eyeing him curiously. The man raised his hand in a casual salute.

"You must be the Overlord. I guess mother didn't do a very good job locking you up, did she?" He bent down, curious. "You're a lot smaller than I expected."

"Oh." He tilted his head back, regarding the man. He wasn't used to having to look up. "You're...you're rather big, aren't you?"

The giant grinned back, raising the blade.

"Let's have some fun, little fellow."

"'Little'," the Overlord said dryly. "That's a new one."

The giant strode towards him, and his eyes narrowed. The man moved, he thought, like a snow cat, without the heavy, lumbering gait of the gargantuans or trolls. For an instant, he felt his resolve weaken, wondered if he should have paid more attention to Rose.

He was the _Overlord_ , though, he thought, shaking the thought away with a smirk. He'd conquered an Empire. He'd brought down a _god_. He was going to enjoy cutting the giant down to size.

He reached out a hand, calling his minions, sent the greens sprinting out of the shadows, leaping onto the giant's back.

To his surprise, the man ignored them, striding forward and bringing his broadsword down faster than he would have thought possible. He barely managed to dodge aside. He staggered back, eyeing the man with a wary new respect. The giant flicked his wrist and skewered a green from his shoulder, gave it a critical look.

"Odd little things," the giant rumbled. "We've got mosquitoes with more bite back home."

He was going to have to be smarter about this. He backed away, deeper into the city. The giant sauntered after him, amused.

"Why in such a hurry, little fellow? Stay and play with me!"

He drew back into the half-ruined city, heading for the slums. The minions skittered ahead, scurrying over shattered stone and still-smoking beams, clearing a path for him. Behind him, the giant cursed and swore as he shouldered his way through the debris.

He could sense a group of reds ahead, clustered around a fire in the slums. The shanties in the slums had blazed up like paper in the chaos of the invasion, and the reds had spent the last few days cheerfully running riot through the ruins. He felt their attention switch from the dancing flames to focus on him, bright and eager.

He called them, drawing them closer, held them crouched on the rooftops. There were greens below the streets, lurking in the sewers. He called them up, and they swarmed up over the broken masonry into the shadows, hissing. The giant forced his way after him, tearing through broken beams and piles of rubble. He turned to face the giant, and the man spat, annoyed.

"Stop running! Stand still and fight like a man!"

 _Now_ , he thought, and let the minions slip from his control.

The reds hit the giant first, a barrage of fireballs that set his hair ablaze. The giant screamed and floundered, unprepared for the attack. The greens burst from cover and fell upon him, jagged blades flashing, still wet with filth from the sewers. He howled, furious, his sword flashing out to cut down the minions- but for every one he swept aside, two more boiled up from the sewers to take its place. The giant stumbled as a green slashed his thigh, fell with a crash of armor.

"Hah!"

The giant was down, bleeding from a thousand tiny cuts, struggling to rise beneath the weight of the greens. The Overlord strode forward, wild magic lashing out to leash the great man to his will. Arcing, brilliant power settled around the man's temples, and for an instant, he saw fear in the giant's eyes...but then the man heaved himself to his feet with a snarl, and then, to his astonishment, he broke free from the binding with a roar. The Ruborian surged forward, bringing his broadsword to bear.

The giant was _fast_ , faster than he'd ever expected. The shock of the broadsword skewering his shoulder was like winter water, a chill numbness spreading through his chest. He gaped up at the giant in mute surprise. The man spat and staggered back, clutching his head.

"I'm as stubborn as a rock troll, kid, and twice as strong!" He wiped a smear of red from his nose and bared his teeth, struggling to stay upright. "That shit won't work on me."

The Overlord reached up and grabbed the pommel of the broadsword, pulled it free with a growl. He pushed the pain, the fear, the _noise_ aside, until there was nothing left but a cold, hard core of fury. He flicked his own black blood from the blade, gold eyes burning. The giant took a step back, startled, dodged a sweep of his own sword with a curse. He flipped the axe around and caught the giant full in the chest. The man staggered back, grasping the hilt of the weapon, gasping. He pulled the axe free with a wet, hideous sound, and the giant fell, at last, to his knees.

 _Go_ , he thought, cold and cruel and inescapable as a glacier. _Kill him._

The minions surged forward, covering the giant like ants as the man flailed and snarled. For every leathery body he swatted aside, another took its place. He howled, raging, his swings growing wilder, struggling to rise, covered in rangy limbs and flashing claws. The Overlord leaned on his axe, black blood leaking down to stain the stones of his conquered city.

"Please," the giant gasped, said something in a rapid, liquid language he didn't know. "Please, Lord, don't-"

"Don't?..." he asked him, mocking.

"Sire!" Gnarl snapped.

He ignored the old minion, focused on the fallen giant, cruel.

"Don't...don't kill me! Please!"

"Please, what?"

"Sire, just kill him already! I've taught you better than this, don't play with your food!"

"Please, Lord! I can...I can help you, join you! I can tell you about our plans, our armies-"

"You want to _help_ me?"

The giant's gaze flicked past him, and he grinned, and spat blood.

"Nah." He said, smirking. "I was just stalling you until the rest of my backup could get here."

"You think that'll help you?" the Overlord asked him, turning. "When I was a child, I killed a whole legion of the Empire's best, and I took _you_ down in a-"

His voice died in his throat. There were a trio of other giants behind him, each as big as the man he'd fought. The minions backed away to flank him, uncertain.

"Oh."

A massive man grinned at the two of them, tapping his mace on a broad shoulder.

" _You look like you could use some help, Mal_ ," he said.

The giant spat a curse in his fluid language and rose painfully to his feet.

" _You took your time, didn't you?_ "

" _We didn't want to spoil your fun."_

" _Watch out for this one. He's tougher than he looks._ "

The giants moved before he could react. The mace caught him full in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. He hit the wall hard, fighting for breath, only just managed to slide out of the way of a scimitar that was half as tall as he was.

The minions were maddened, hurling themselves at the giants, shrieking. The reds called down a salvo of fire that should have roasted the Ruborians to a crisp- but to his shock, one of the men threw up an arcing, sparking shield of magic that answered their fire with lightning. The remaining reds scattered, howling.

His forces were exhausted- they'd shattered themselves bringing the first giant down. He should have killed the big man when he'd had the chance, he thought, furious with himself. He should have known not to stop and taunt a fallen enemy- that was basically Overlording 101.

"I need more minions!" he gasped.

"Working on it, Sire!" Gnarl cried. "You're too far away from a portal to summon them from the Netherworld, but they're on the way. Get out of there while you can, Sire!"

"I'm not fleeing from my own godsdamned city!"

He blocked a sweep from a sword with his axe, dodged the scimitar as the mace whistled past his guard and caught him a blow to the head that made his helmet ring. He staggered, stunned, and Malachite hit him full in the face with the pommel of his sword. He fell, tasting blood.

"Mom's going to be happy to have you back again," the giant growled. "This time we'll break your legs so you can't run off again."

They were going to drag him back to the desert. They were going to chain him up again. He struggled to stand, choking on blood. When the Imperials had put him in their Arena, he'd gone a bit mad, and he'd only come out of his black, frantic fury when Gnarl and the Mistresses had found him again. When the Ruborians had taken him down and locked him in irons, the only thing that had kept him from spiraling into violent panic had been Kelda. He couldn't let them capture him again, he thought, fighting to rise.

The giant man put a foot on his back, forcing him down.

"I'm going to enjoy this," he snarled.

One of the other giants cried out, stumbled forward. Malachite whirled.

"What in the _desert_?"

The man was clutching a bolt in his shoulder, dark skin paling as he watched black tendrils spreading from the wound. He looked up, his eyes wide, tried to say something as he collapsed and went still.

"Hey, arseholes!"

Kelda stood in the avenue, holding a loaded crossbow, the bolt dripping a sickly, sticky green, flanked by the other Mistresses. Juno was obviously trying not to break and run, holding a sword as if she was afraid it might twist around and bite her. Fay was wreathed in magic, power crackling around her like a lightning storm. Rose was there, too, to his surprise, surrounded by her Sentinels.

"You just had to say something, didn't you?" Juno snapped. "We could have just snuck up on them, but nooo, Kelda had to say something macho."

"I don't see you doing anything to help!"

"Stop arguing, ladies, and make yourselves useful!" Fay hit a giant with a bolt of power, staggering him. "For once!"

One of the giants made an answering gesture, magic flickering over his fingers. Rose sent her Sentinels out after him. They surrounded him, staffs humming, and he screamed, magic warping and twisting within him. He fell, skin smoking. The Sentinels drifted back to Rose, sated.

" _Desert_ ," a giant snapped.

He lurched forward, his broadsword striking sparks from the stones. The other giant followed more warily, scimitar held ready.

"You've made a _huge_ mistake, girls."

"Nobody's called me that in _decades_ ," Rose said, amused.

Kelda's bolt hit him in the chest. He snarled and kept coming, raising his sword.

"Crap!" She held out a shaking hand. "Rose, hurry!"

Rose dipped the tip of a bolt in a virulent little vial and passed it to her. Kelda cranked the crossbow, struggling to control her trembling- the giants were _huge_ , she thought, and she'd never fought anything quite like them. The bolt went wide, and she cursed.

"Spread out!" Rose snapped.

They scattered, surrounding the giants, wary.

Juno crept along the wall, keeping out of the way of the fighting. She crouched beside the Ovelord, biting her lip, careful not to get any blood on her skirt. There was an awful lot of it, she thought. She wasn't sure if he was still breathing. She poked his shoulder gingerly.

"Hey. Er...Master? Are you dead?"

She hoped he wasn't- otherwise she'd have to find a new patron, and that was so much _effort._ To be honest, she'd grown somewhat fond of him, too.

Gold eyes opened as he gasped, and she squeaked, took a startled step back.

"Oh, good!" she said, recovering, surprised at how relieved she felt. "I'd hate to have to move all my stuff out of the Netherworld...I've got an awful lot of it."

"Juno?" he rasped.

He seized her hand. She made a face- his hands were covered in sticky black blood, and she just _knew_ it was going to get _everywhere_.

"We were just _so_ worried about you," she crooned, trying to discretely work her hand free. "So I gathered all the other Mistresses and came after you, because I care _so_ much-"

His eyes narrowed, and he lunged up, knocking her face-down onto the cobblestones. She squealed, horrified, as blood and muck and other unidentifiable filth splashed her dress. For a horrible instant, she wondered if he'd somehow managed to read her mind, knew she was lying- who _knew_ what sort of spooky powers he'd picked up from Solarius? But then she heard the crash of steel on steel, looked up to see him straining against a giant's scimitar, snarling.

The giant forced him down, hardly sparing her a glance. She pulled herself to her feet and picked up her sword, struggling to remember how she'd seen the soldiers hold their weapons.

"Hey!" She swung the sword clumsily, glancing off the giant's armor. "You tried to _cut_ me! How _could_ you? I'm _gorgeous!"_

The giant looked down at her, bemused, and she went pale, the sword dropping out of her nerveless hands. Whatever had possessed her to do _that?_ She wasn't a warrior!

"Please don't kill me!" She said, knew at that moment with a curious certainty that she was going to die.

A bolt bloomed from his neck. He looked at it, confused, then swayed and fell, his eyes meeting hers as he twitched and died. Juno sank to her knees, shaking. She'd never been so afraid, she thought, not in her entire life. She wasn't built for this sort of thing.

The Overlord stood with a groan, pulled the wrappings around his face down and spat blood.

"Witch boy!" Kelda hurried to him. "You're hurt!"

"You think?" he asked her sarcastically.

"We need to get out of here. We saw even more giants on our way over here- a bunch of them."

"We should go while there's still time," Rose said coolly.

"I'm not leaving my city!" he snarled.

He turned on his heel, staggered, recovering. Kelda grabbed his arm, and he shook her off. She grabbed his arm again and turned him to face her, scowling, jabbed a finger into his chest.

"Don't you bloody dare."

"Kelda..." he growled, dangerous.

"You don't scare me," she snarled back. "I've known you since you were small. We're going below, even if I have to club you over the head and drag you back home by your hair!"

"But I-"

"But _nothing!_ " she snapped. "I'm your Mistress, and your partner, and your _friend_ , you bloody bastard, and I'm telling you, you're being a stupid son of a bitch, and if you keep this up, you're going to get the pair of us- no- the _three_ of us killed!" She jerked her head at Rose and the other Mistresses. "And them, too!"

She was standing up on her tiptoes, bristling like a cat. He tried to step past her, but she pushed him back, her eyes flashing, and he staggered again, suddenly realizing how badly he'd been hurt.

"I'll do it," she growled. "Don't think I won't!"

She was right- and Rose was right. It hurt his pride to admit it, but he realized that, for once, he'd let his rage get the better of him. He hated his mother, still, but she'd been right.

"Let's go."

Kelda blinked up at him, thrown.

"What?"

"Come on." He put an arm around her shoulders, hoping it didn't make him look too weak in front of his mother. "You're right."

"Ooh, I like hearing that." She gave him a strained smile as Fay took his other arm. "You should say that again."

"Don't push it."

They staggered back to the Nethworld, bruised and bloodied. Gnarl took one look at the Overlord and blanched.

"Oh, hells!" he gestured to a pair of minions. "You lot, bring me the sarcophagus- and be quick about it!"

"Is he going to be alright?" Kelda asked him worriedly.

"He's taken quite a beating, but that's what he's built for." Gnarl patted her arm absently. "He'll be fine. We just need him in top shape, and the sarcophagus will speed things up."

A gaggle of browns dragged a long stone coffin into the throne room, looking up at them expectantly. Kelda shivered as she helped the Overlord into the thing- it felt uncomfortably like she was preparing him for burial. He gave her a weak smile and squeezed her hand.

"It'll be fine," he rasped. "I've been through this before."

"Ah, yes, that tangle with the rock troll," Gnarl sighed. "Oh, and the time with the sphinx-"

"How many times did you almost let my son get himself killed?" Rose demanded.

" _You_ try to stop a teenage Overlord from running off after the giant cat woman with the naked breasts next time, then, why don't you?"

"Why didn't you just pop me in here?" Kelda asked him curiously. "Back when I got shot?"

"The sarcophagus...changes...humans, Mistress. Sometimes, they don't survive it."

"Oh. But what about him?"

"I'm not human," he said calmly.

"Ah. Right."

Sometimes, Kelda found herself forgetting that fact, despite his strange looks and wild magic. When he held her, the way his brilliant eyes watched her...she shivered and leaned over to kiss him.

"I'm still mad at you," she told him.

"I know."

"I'm going to yell at you, once you're out of this thing."

"Yes, I know."

"We have a lot to discuss, once you're through with this," Rose said stiffly, with a quick glance at the peasant girl. "How we're going to deal with the Ruborian gyrocopters, for one-"

"Oh, that won't be a problem," the Overlord said calmly.

Rose raised a brow.

"Oh, really? Whyever not?"

"We have dragons."

He laughed aloud at the shock on her face, and then the lid of the sarcophagus swung closed.


End file.
